What about Witch Queen?
by Mapograph
Summary: World slowly comes to know that new queen of Arendelle is gifted with magic, but how will they react? Some refuse to believe. Some try to fix their relations with Arendelle. And some put into motion long-planned schemes, schemes in which Queen Elsa has just became a central figure...
1. Chapter 1: Matters to take care of

_Koenigsberg, island of Zisch_

King Friedrich the Second of the Southern Isles sighed inwardly when his little brother was led into the room. Hans apparently insisted - as usually - in dressing up as if occasion was a coronation, which was potentially suicidal even in well-winded audience hall of Schloss Schwalbe. That forced Friedrich into putting on similar apparel, which made him overheated and wishing - hard - that audience would end quickly.  
>Sadly, it didn't seem so. Fact that Hans' hands were tied behind his back was telling, but upon slightly closer inspection Friedrich noticed that his brother's clothes seemed used and dirtied. So did the prince himself, for that matter. Oh, please, please, no, thought Friedrich. I hope he didn't do… something. After experiences with rest of their siblings, list of possible "somethings" was rather long.<br>Hans and three guards who led him stopped five meters from the throne, as the rules required. Leader of the guards stepped to the front, holding something in his hand. He bowed deeply before the king - the Isles were never big on ceremony - before speaking:  
>"Your Majesty… We have brought your brother, Prince Hans, home."<br>Friedrich took control of his mouth before it could state, "I'm not blind". Instead, he answered:  
>"Indeed. However… why does he appear to be imprisoned?"<br>Captain took a deep breath, then extended his hand. The thing in it turned out to be a letter, marked with a seal showing the crowned reindeer in front of a snowflake. So the new queen already established her emblem.  
>"It was a direct… uhm, wish… of queen Elsa of Arendelle.", guard managed to utter.<br>"I see.", said the king, feeling sudden rush of very, very fatalist mood. "Let me see it, then, and leave me alone with my brother."  
>Guards seemed more than happy to comply.<p>

Upon being left alone, Friedrich glared at Hans, who was looking as innocently as only a member of von Schwalbe family could - that is, quite convincingly. As member of this family himself, Friedrich was not fooled.  
>" So", he asked, "what did you do?"<br>Hans' look darted to the sides before he stated in frantic, theatrical whisper:  
>"Their queen… is… a witch!"<br>Friedrich's glare was obviously not strong enough.  
>"I would've expected better from you", he said dryly.<br>"Believe me, Brother, I am _not_ lying.", Hans replied. "You can ask whoever you want about that! New queen of Arendelle is a witch!"  
>As if I was to ask people about such baseless accusations, thought Friedrich, breaking the seal. Witchcraft was a superstition of mainlanders and timid plebeian women, not kings of the realm…<p>

He started reading. As he did, his expression slowly turned from interest, to worry, to bewilderment, to unadulterated horror. Slowly, he raised his eyes and looked at Hans, who still kept up his pretences of innocence.  
>"You did…" the king started slowly, "what?!"<p>

_Arendelle_

"Well, Princey should be about coming home right now, right?"  
>Kai Madsen, heir to the West Keep and major of Arendelle's rather unimposing (until recently) army turned around to see his immediate superior grinning like a madman. General Bjorn Berg was a man as huge, as his name and surname suggested, hinting at his mountaineer ancestry. He stuck above the ballroom's crowd like scarecrow in the field, and had personality to match.<br>"Yes, I presume so", Kai answered politely. "It is questionable whether we should tell the Queen about that."  
>I think she's already heard him, he thought, noticing Her Majesty in the corner of his eye, looking in their direction. As usual, Queen Elsa has dressed in long, translucent blue gown, scandalously revealing for Arendelle standards, but definitely highlighting Her Majesty's natural beauty. And less than a week ago Kai's sister told him that ladies started ordering similar gowns to wear themselves, to despair of their mothers.<br>Well, we live in a changing times, I presume, though major, taking a cookie off the passing tray.  
>"Oh, I guess she already knows for sure!", said general with a grin. "That's our Queen Elsa, after all!"<br>She must hear us, decided Kai, noticing faint smile on Queen's face. Queen's sister definitely did, for Princess Anna has exploded in a fit of laughter the moment general finished his statement. Major felt himself reddening before realising that it's most likely only Berg who's the focus of attention.  
>"Well, sir, as far as I know, Her Majesty possesses only ice powers, not clairvoyance. She might not be able to see so far."<br>He noticed that he started to speak more quietly. That was usual when people started talking about the Queen's… abilities, as if she indeed possessed clairvoyance. It was only two months after the Great Freeze, after all. Nobody was really sure.  
>"Perhaps, perhaps!", general agreed and Kai almost spitted his cookie out when he received powerful pat on the back. "Anyway, Kai boy, I've got to talk to Her Majesty! Come with me, would you?!"<br>Well, that _was_ an order. Kai obeyed and followed. Despite ballroom being rather crowded, his path in the wake of general's passing was rather clear.

Party was thrown in honor of the Kingdom of Corona, or, specifically, its heir apparent, princess Rapuznel. Princess - cousin few times removed of Arendelle ruling family - has just signed a trade treaty that would enable Arendelle to dig itself out of economical hole it was thrown into by Great Freeze. Through the two months she was staying in the castle, she proven to be as lively a person as Princess Anna, and as kind hearted.  
>Unsurprisingly, she was there when Kai and general Berg approached the Queen. She was chatting excitedly with Princess Anna, with Queen mostly nodding sagely, something that Kai recognized from relationship with his own siblings. Upon noticing general, Her Majesty gently stepped into the break princess Rapunzel took for air.<br>"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Anna, Rapunzel."  
>"Of course, don't worry!", Princess Anna exclaimed cheerfully.<br>"State can't wait!", added Rapunzel and the two returned to their conversation. In the corner of the ballroom, Kai noticed prince consort Eugene and Anna's how-would-you-call-it mountaineer Kristoff talking between themselves about god-knows-what. Maybe about their disdain for nobility or possession of surprisingly intelligent steeds. Who knows what commoners-until-recently talk about on the balls.

Kai's attention snapped back to the general, who at this point has already exchanged greetings with the Queen. Major felt himself reddening again.  
>"Your Majesty", he murmured, bowing slightly.<br>"Major", she answered in tone that signalized that he hadn't broken any protocol. Inside, he sighed with relief. "General, I've heard there is some case you'd like to talk to me about?"  
>"There is, Your Majesty.", he agreed. "As a matter of fact…"<br>He dropped his tone slightly.  
>"Majority of Arendelle's army feels… unsure as to their place in the current strategy of our Kingdom."<br>Ah. So that's what Berg wanted to talk about. Well, "unsure as to their place" was rather mildly put, compared with rumours that were running wild all around the Royal Army.  
>"Oh?", was the Queens only answer, albeit in polite tone.<br>"Well, Your Majesty, it is indisputable that your newly revealed abilities are… tremendous barrier for anybody who'd like to attack us. Shortly put, any attack on Arendelle is virtually impossible as long as you live…"  
>And everybody knows that magical beings live longer that ordinary mortals, finished Kai in his mind. Queen must've thought the same, for her eyes narrowed as she nodded, ordering the general to speak on.<br>"… and thus there are voices that state that Army became somewhat obsolete because of protection you can provide, Your Majesty. There are also those who state that, with our borders secure, we should become more… ah, active in international politics."

Oh? Kai never actually expected Berg to belong to the activist faction in the Army, even though that appeared to be obvious. Her Majesty, on the other hand, seemed to have heard that already. Her face took on the polite expression and Kai new what answer to expect.  
>"General. I'm afraid you are somewhat mistaken in your assumption that with me on the throne, our kingdom is unconquerable. May I remind you that during the Great Freeze I was hardly able to protect myself, much less anyone else?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Surely, right now my control is much higher, but rest assured that I still depend on the Royal Army to protect Arendelle."<br>She paused there for a moment, as if estimating Berg's reaction to her words. Then she continued.  
>"As for international politics, Arendelle has always been trade power. That was the policy my father supported and that is a policy I shall be supporting as well. I would much prefer to use my power over ice to defrost shipping routes during winter than to aid us in any sort of aggressive policy."<br>Well, here goes activist's dream of magical support in their imagined campaign, thought Kai with relief. He was soldier, sure - but he was also a baron-to-be, and West Keep was rich mostly because of the trade that passed by it. This declaration - doubtlessly heard by nobility and merchantmen who constituted the majority of the company present - meant that trade routes would be open year round, which nearly doubled expected annual income. So, that was good.  
>Not for Berg, though. Even though he tried to hide it, Kai could see his disappointment as if it was written on general's forehead. He bowed deeply.<br>"Of course, Your Majesty."

It wasn't until they exited the castle grounds when general exploded.  
>"Unbelievable!", he bellowed in frustration, then spiced it with words more fit to a sergeant, and bellowed again:<br>"Un-be-lie-va-ble! Unbe_frakkin_lievable!"  
>He then added some curses that Kai didn't know, but which seemed mountaineer. Major, hiding in the shadows, glanced at the houses around them. Some children were undoubtedly learning something tonight.<br>"Such a great opportunity!", general exclaimed, looking at major. "Imagine, Kai, just imagine! We could become a power, _real_ power, like Confederates or Amberlaine! As she says she'd rather support _trade_. Trade!"  
>Kai learnt some time ago that it's better to stay silent when Berg is in sour mood. And so he did, listening to general with worsening humour.<br>"For ages we've been country of freakin' shopkeepers and tax collectors! Now there opportunity to change that… and she'll support _trade_."  
>He spoke a word as if it was something sour. He fell silent then and looked at Kai, obviously expecting an answer.<p>

Major felt uncomfortable with it. On one hand, he was fairly confident that Arendelle nobility, as small as it was, would speak in one voice if the choice was between conquering the lands for non-existent peers of the Realm, or extending the trading season, bringing more coin into the purses of definitely-existing ones. Sure, they liked to send their children into the army, mostly so that those children could learn what commoners really think of them - but then, it was tradition, not some sort of display of support for imagined conquers.  
>On the other hand, Kai didn't feel particularly inclined to tell Berg about it. One'd think that nobleman's life in the Army is easy, but everybody looked at the bluebloods full of doubt, and every promotion they got - if they ever climbed over the rank of the lieutenant - was immediately suspected to be result of their connections rather than talent. As a protégé of Berg - commoner, skilled and no-nonsense as the general was - Kai could advance in ranks at normal speed and without slightest suspicions, because Berg was blind to blood. Everybody knew that… and major would rather not lose that.<br>So instead of speaking his mind clearly, he said:  
>"Sir, remember please, that the Queen only recently learned to fully command her powers. She might not be sure if she'd be able to support a marching army without hurting us in the process. On the other hand, if she works on the sea, the worst that could happen is that fishermen will catch fish already fried for next few weeks. Perhaps we should give Her Majesty more time."<br>Berg looked at him, considering, and Kai hoped that his reasoning made sense.  
>It apparently did, because another powerful pat landed on his back and Berg said cheerfully:<br>"Good I kept you, boy, you've gotta head! Sure, we'll wait…"  
>He went into hushed tones for a moment:<br>"…but Her Majesty haven't forbidden us to prepare, now has she?"


	2. Chapter 2: Family business

_Koenigsberg_

Von Schwalbe family gatherings were usually rather a big affair, especially after fifteen children started, one by one, to reach majority and marry. After king Klaus died (over-extortion, decided the unkind ones), most of von Schwalbes moved on to live on their own, getting together - or mostly together, at least - for one occasion: birthdays of the oldest of them, king Friedrich.  
>With his wife Lisa at his shoulder, Friedrich looked around the middle sized ballroom they always used for that purpose. This year, some were missing, as usually. Aaron, child nine and boy eight, followed his wife Maria on diplomatic mission far West. Ferdinand, child six and boy five, a naval officer, unexpectedly found himself in the middle of pirate chase after idiots tried to loot one of the southernmost islands. Youngest kid, Ute, being her usual self, was probably somewhere in the Isles. Perhaps in commoner's clothes. Her older brothers and sister didn't really understand her.<br>"Aaand where's our little Hans?", asked Frederick, boy eleven and one of the twins, approaching Friedrich with a cup of punch. Friedrich sighed. Well, he had to tell them someday.  
>"He went to Arendelle for the coronation of the new queen.", Lisa stated calmly before he could answer.<br>"Him? Why him?", asked Urlich, boy twelve and Freddie's twin, shuffling closer. "He wanted to catch a princess?"  
>Well, they are my family, Friedrich consoled himself, answering before Lisa could.<br>"Yeah. And got sent back in shackles."  
>That startled them all. Conversations stopped and heads turned. Jonas, boy six, looked at Friedrich from over the couch.<br>"Hans? Well, well, who'd expect that…", he asked sarcastically. "What did he try to do? Get a girl? Steal the silvers? Charm the queen-to-be?"  
>"Worse.", came the murmur from the other side of the room. Eric, husband of Friedrich's sister Margaret, child two, and heir apparent to the Principality of Weselton, was standing there, leaning on the wall, with wine in his hand.<br>"Oh, so you've heard? Share the news, then.", Friedrich encouraged him.  
>"Yes, we've passed the messenger boat on the way here. Your youngest brother was sent back on the accusations of… well, attempted double murder, usurping the power <em>and <em>attempted coup."  
>For the moment, entire family was frozen into shock. Then Jonas looked at the king.<br>"Friedrich, please tell me that he's not serious."  
>"Well, I wish I could."<br>For a few more moments the only sound was Jonas's facepalm. Then ballroom exploded into ruckus.

"…aaand, on top of that, he claims that Elsa is… wait for it… a _witch_."  
>"Well, now he's just messing with us.", said Margaret, reading queen Elsa's letter. Queen Elsa's message went through the hands of everybody in the family roughly three times, everybody seeing and not believing.<br>Little Hans, being scoundrel and attention-seeker, sure. Little Hans, trying to catch himself the princess? Well, not exactly unexpected. Little Hans, trying to take over the kingdom _and_ murder both members of royal family? Holy hell.

"Well, she do seem pissed", murmured Margaret, folding the letter and returning it to Friedrich.  
>"I'd be if I were her", murmured Stefan, boy seven. "But I'd really like to know why does he insist on this witchcraft thing. Why the hell would we believe him?"<br>A sound of cleared throat came from Eric's direction.  
>"What is it, Eric?", asked Urlich.<br>"Well, if I may. Hans might be wrong, but his assumption is definitely based rather solidly."  
>"What?", came from a few throats. Friedrich was one of people asking, but after a moment, he noticed:<br>"Your… uncle was there, right?"  
>"Yes, uncle Andrew. Superstitious old man, but well. Arendelle is… was… our biggest trade parter."<br>"Was?"  
>"Yep. Seems like he decided to participate in Hans' adventures."<br>Short explaining later, Eric finished:  
>"All I know for sure is that Anna dragged Hans in front of the queen for her blessing, argument exploded, suddenly queen stormed out of castle, and somehow the story jumps to the fact that all Arendelle was covered in snow."<br>"In June?"  
>"Yeah. So Anna runs out of the castle, with Hans close after her, something happens in the mountains, then the queen comes back, there's a snowstorm of the century and suddenly there's no more winter, queen is back and Hans with uncle Andrew get arrested and later sent back to here and Weselton, accused of attempted regicide."<br>"And when does the witchcraft come into that?", asked Michael, boy two.  
>"Well, apparently locals believe it's her who caused the weather shifts. As a matter of fact, uncle wrote to me, stating that I should 'beware that witch', and that 'severing our ties with Arendelle is for our own good'! Would you believe?", he finished, clearly embittered. Friedrich understood him. Weselton was small principality stuffed between two mountain ranges, with only Arendelle to deal with. Their main - well, only - trading product was coal, which it produced in amount roughly enough to satisfy the need of two small countries. For years, one of those was Arendelle, which - up north and with no ores to speak of - needed coal badly. Arendelle cutting the trade with Weselton would hit principality's economy badly.<br>Of course, the question was how exactly is Elsa going to heat her subjects' houses in the winter. Friedrich patted Eric on the shoulder.  
>"Don't worry. She's young, younger than you, and I bet she didn't really think it through. The moment cold starts coming she'll send a letter apologizing for the trouble and asking if you could, pleeeease, sell her some coal, pretty please!"<br>That - especially parodying way Friedrich said it - sent a small laughter around the room.  
>"She can burn wood, if she's despaired to keep us out.", noticed Eric, even though his mood seemed to get better. Then he became sour again.<br>"Of course, that's rather moot speculation if there really is something behind those rumors."  
>Friedrich froze on that, not believing for a moment that Eric actually suggested that. Then he looked at the rest of his family. Most of them seemed as surprised as him, apart from Albrecht, boy ten, who probably slept instead of listening, and Michael, who seemed angry, and getting angrier with every moment.<br>"Honestly? You believe that?", asked Jonas.  
>"<em>I don't know<em>", answered Eric, throwing up his hands. "No idea!"  
>"Please, that's absurd", murmured Ferdinand.<br>"Well, there was this matter in Corona a few years back…", Margaret noticed from the sofa next to Eric. Some brothers looked as if they were enraged by the statement, so Friedrich decided to calm the mood.  
>"That… doesn't matter right now.", he said simply. "I guess we've got some other concerns."<br>"That's for sure!", said Michael jumping on his feet and bending slightly forward. "I think we're forgetting about the fact that queen actually arrested one of ours, kept him in freakin' cell for nearly a _month_ and then sent home in ship's prison, not to mention that she ordered _our _guards around! That's just plain incredulous, and we're doing… what, exactly?!"  
>Well, he <em>is<em> pissed, Friedrich noticed. And my stupid brothers agree with him. He folded his arms and stood stronger in front of his family, eyeing Michael.  
>"What <em>I<em> am going to do, Michael, is writing to her majesty queen Elsa _apologizing_ her for my youngest brother's unfounded and reasonless attack on her and her sister!"  
>"What?! Are you kidding me?!", asked Michael. "You're gonna pretend all this violations of protocol didn't happen and bow in front of this-"<br>"It's 'are you kidding me, _Your Majesty_'.", Friedrich answered coldly. "And regarding violations of protocol, the only one I've seen so far was Hans' behavior at and after the coronation."

That put Michael back in line. He back off and fell on the sofa without keeping his eyes off Friedrich.  
>"Great", he said simply. "Great. Sure. You're the king, after all."<p>

Sometime after the party, Friedrich found himself standing in the middle of his room, panting, teeth set and fists clenched. Around him once-fine bedroom was a picture of ruin.  
>"Honey?", the voice from the door snapped him into reality from bloody dreams of murder. Lisa was standing there.<br>"I see we have to order new furniture again", she observed serenely.  
>"Oh… I'm sorry, Lisa", he said, slumping on the floor between remains of table and crystal lampoon.<br>"I got used to it", she said, picture of calmness as ever. "Although I'd rather Michael kept himself away from the castle for some time."  
>"Well, me too.", he agreed and put himself on his feet, then left the room so that servants could deal with result of his anger issues. He froze midway, few feet from Lisa.<br>"I didn't…?"  
>She sighed.<br>"Do I look like you did?"  
>He bent slightly, then breathed in relief.<p>

A while later, in small living room next to his daughter's bedroom, Friedrich sat with Lisa, glasses of brandy in their hands.  
>"You think I made the right decision?", he asked her.<br>"That hardly matters now.", she noticed. "But I'd say… well, yes and no."  
>"Thanks, hon. That was helpful."<br>She chuckled.  
>"Friedrich, after the show Michael put up there at the party you could hardly agree with him without looking like you're backing off. On the other hand…"<br>Lisa took a deep gulp from her glass.  
>"You know your family. You think they'll like it?"<br>Friedrich poured himself and his wife.  
>"No. They won't at all."<p>

Eric, heir apparent to Weselton, was in rather foul mood two days later. Apart from the disaster that was sending uncle Andrew to the coronation, and economical matters, there was the fact that he was on the boat. He hated sailing.  
>The day, just to spite him, was awful as well. Despite this being nearly October and thus the end of rain season, sky was clouded and streams of cold water poured down endlessly. That forced Eric to go under the deck, where his seasickness was at its strongest.<p>

Margaret approached him with a cup of something smelling nicely.  
>"Ginger tea", she proclaimed.<br>"Almighty bless you", he said from his bed, grabbing the cup. After seven years of swimming to and fro Southern Isles - four weeks each way - he found it to be wonderful remedy.  
>Margaret sat next to him while he drank.<br>"So? What do we do?", she asked.  
>"About what, Arendelle? I guess your brother made his position clear."<br>"I don't mean 'we' as sister and brother-in-law of Southern Isles' king", she said. "I mean 'we' as first in line to Weselton throne. Sure you're not going to just bow and grovel before Elsa."  
>"No, of course not!", he answered, then made a break for a drink. "But what would you suggest, attacking them? You are aware that we have… had… a protection deal with Arendelle specifically to avoid raising an army, right? And even if we managed to conquer them… somehow, without army or funds to pay for it… that doesn't exactly solve our economic problems."<br>"Sure, sure… But really, why conquest?"  
>Eric looked at her.<br>"You've got some idea?"  
>"Yes. We'll be going along Confederates' coast on the way, won't we? Why not stop and try to make some deal?"<br>Eric considered, then nodded. As big a country as Confederacy was, Weselton would probably end up giving the coal away nearly for free, but "nearly for free" was not "actually for free".  
>"If you could ask the captain?"<br>"Sure." She stood up. Before leaving, she turned to look at him.  
>"Don't worry, Eric. I know some people in Confederacy."<br>That was probably supposed to be reassuring, but after she left, Eric felt rather worried. It seemed like there was some plan concocted in his wife's pretty head and she didn't tell Eric about it.  
>Von Schwalbe family started as pirates. Some claimed that they still kept some of their past ways.<p>

Margaret's head was not the only one concocting plans at that moment.

Michael von Schwalbe paced back and forth across his room, while his wife Annaliese worked on her laceworks. Suddenly he stopped halfway and turned to her.  
>"'King Michael The First'. How does it sound to you, Alise?"<br>"It has a certain ring to it, sure.", she agreed without rising her head and he sighed. Annaliese was chosen for him by his father and while they got along, she lacked certain degree of imagination Michael desired.  
>"And what about 'Queen Annaliese '?", he tried.<br>That caught her attention. She looked up at him and tilted her head.  
>"You are seriously thinking about overthrowing your brother?"<br>"'Overthrow' is such a big word, Alise. I'd rather we used 'retire'."  
>"As you wish, Michi. But you are thinking about it."<br>"Of course I am!", he answered and returned to pacing. "What he showed two days ago; his mindset; it's absurd, Alise, that such a man would sit on the throne! We're going to be laughingstock of all region if he's actually going to apologize to that woman and pretend she acted perfectly civil!"  
>If Annaliese 's opinion differed from her husband's, she didn't let him know. He took it as a sign that he should continue.<br>"Not to mention Friedrich himself! Who knows if he's even supposed to sit on the throne, titling himself the king!"  
>Old story. Rumor had it that queen Anjelika has shown up at her wedding already pregnant, and that the father was not king Klaus. Whether or not that was true was debatable, and any proof was, of course, absent, but that hadn't stopped the gossipmongers.<br>"Not to mention… did you hear about his episodes? He's trashing his room every time something ticks him off! I bet his guards are afraid of him! And now this! Who do you think might support him?"  
>"I don't think they'd be less afraid of king who killed his brother for the title.", noticed Annaliese .<br>"Ha! You'd be surprised."  
>He rang the bell and the servant appeared moments later.<br>"Bring me lieutenant Weiss", he ordered and servant disappeared silently. Annaliese put down her lacework.  
>"You can stay if you want to. After all, if you want to be the queen…"<br>"I will, but your lieutenant doesn't have to see me sewing. I see you've got plans already?"  
>"Sketch of a plan, yes", admitted Michael. "Not entirety of it. But that's good."<br>"How come?"  
>"You see, Alise, a new piece just fell into my hands and in time…" he grinned. Annaliese had nothing of his theatrics, though.<br>"What piece?"  
>"Queen Elsa of Arendelle, of course. The Witch Queen, did you hear the name? People start calling her like that already. Soon citizens of the Isles will fear her, and who will they look for to save them? Not the king that made deal with her, of course!"<br>Annaliese started to nod before noting a flaw in Michaels "sketch of a plan".  
>"You don't know if they'll fear her."<br>"Oh, don't worry, my dear. I'll take care of that little detail."  
>With that he fell back on his armchair, smiling as if the crown he desired was already on his head.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: Maneuvers

_Camp Northwest, Arendelle_

Once one knew that general Berg had a plan, it was fairly easy to guess what this plan actually was. Long story short, in a few days army was about to march out to the mountains for a training. Once it came back - which was due to happen a bit less than a month later - Queen should be more willing to go along with activists' plan. And when she'd be - and Berg seemed sure that would be - she'd have freshly trained army at hand, ready to be sent into combat.  
>Kai personally had his doubts about whether queen would be more willing. Surely during that month there would be more than a handful of nobles convincing Her Majesty - "pestering her" came to major's mind - that she'd help kingdom greatly by putting her powers to the service of trade.<p>

Deep into thoughts, he nearly missed the fact that his horse, Spot, was getting off the road and into the grass again. He sighed and forced the animal back on the road, to some lightly concealed amusement of soldiers passing by. It was a well-known story in the camps that despite being a nobleman, Kai Madsen rode the horse like a bag of potatoes.  
>Spot expressed his disappointment by trying to shake his rider off. Kai took his time to put stupid animal back under control, then continued unhurried ride through Camp Northwest, Arendelle's biggest Army quarters. Around him, barracks and workshops were full of activity: swords and pikes were sharpened, clothes mended, muskets cleared, shoes fixed… Everywhere, people were carrying crates and bags of food, equipment, bullets and powder. The last ones were easy to spot - crowd parted before them and they were really careful. Uncared for properly, powder was prone to explode.<br>Elsewhere, people were leading horses and mules to their cages, fixing carts and checking their parts before hard mountainous road. Kai noticed a near accident when carter, chasing the wheel that rolled away, bumped into the man carrying sacks of dried meat. Both man and food fell on the ground and two fellows started to collect meant frantically while exchanging insults. Then Spot entered the passage between two barracks and the scene was out of Kai's view.

Moments later, Kai approached the exit from the camp. Gritted sergeant welcomed him. Major knew him - as a matter of fact, Gram was his subordinate (and helpful hand) when Kai was a lieutenant.  
>"Mornin', sir. Anythin' I can do for you?"<br>"Just open me the door, Gram.", answered Kai, gripping Spot's rains tightly. "Anything I can do for you in the city?"  
>"Not really, sir. I've got my matters all wrapped up.", said sergeant and waved to hurry up some private who was already opening the door. "Although it'd be nice if up-theres would send us more powder."<br>"Well, you know how it is.", said major. "There's no such thing as 'enough powder'. But I'll be talking provision with general this afternoon. Come on, Spot."  
>Man exchanges goodbyes and horse moved on. After he exited the camp and got on the road leading to Arendelle, Kai felt confident enough to go into trot (or whatever horse riders called it). Spot obliged, although Kai had to steer it off the road's borders and green pastures all the time.<br>His bag was bumping his hip repetitively. He had to bring final papers to Her Majesty.

_Arendelle_

Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle (some titles followed), passed by the corner, listening for voices. She was _fairly_ confident that Anna and Kristoff went that way when they passed her some time ago, although they probably weren't there anymore. Not with Anna.  
>Her hand was dirtied with chocolate and Elsa tried to get rid of it in the most efficient way - that is, by licking it off. It didn't look very regal, but even after opening the castle doors there were few people roaming in the family wing of the castle. And that was a good chocolate.<p>

Finally, she heard two people behind the door to Anna's bedroom. She considered just coming in, then decided she'd probably prefer to knock first.  
>Even with this precaution, the two of them were rather surprised when she entered. She stopped in the door and put her hands on the hips.<br>"I hope I'm not interrupting you?", she asked, trying not to show her amusement as Anna and Kristoff started to shake their head wildly.  
>"No, no, why?", Royal Ice Deliverer asked.<br>"Of course not!", added heiress apparent with wide smile.  
>"That's good. I have to talk to you", Elsa said, pointing at Kristoff.<br>"Me?", mountaineer asked, surprised. Elsa didn't deign to answer.  
>"Well, I'm staying", added Anna, sitting at her bed with expression and position supporting her decision.<br>Elsa considered, then nodded, entering the room and closing the room behind her. She wanted to lock it, but apparently Anna didn't put a lock on her door.  
>"So… Kristoff, I've got a job for you."<br>"Job?" He still seemed surprised.  
>"Where did you get chocolate?", Anna wanted to know.<br>Elsa hid her chocolate stained hand quickly. Kristoff continued:  
>"Well, if you need ice, I can go for some…"<br>Really?  
>"Kristoff, do you really think that with me at the throne the job of Royal Ice Deliverer is actually providing ice to the ruler?"<br>Both her sister and her boyfriend fell silent for the moment.  
>"Well, that's tricky.", admitted Anna.<br>"Yeah." Kristoff seemed considerably less awed and more unhappy. "So… what exactly _is _the job of Royal Ice Deliverer?"  
>"Ha! Let me explain it to you…"<p>

_Camp Northwest_

"That's just absurd, Kai!"  
>Major jumped, startled, when Berg's voice boomed inside general's cabinet. Kai himself was sitting by the desk, filling in the endless paperwork, while mountaineer sat by the table, drinking whiskey and reading already finished documentation.<br>Kai turned around to see what is it.  
>"What's absurd, sir?", he asked, unable to see what Berg's reading.<br>"What, the provisions! Just look at it! I'm fairly sure we asked for twice as much powder! And the grain? What do they think I'll feed the horses with in the mountains?!"  
>Yeah. They probably expect us to pasture the horses and mules on the way, thought Kai, even though it would slow us down by half. But Supplies proven multiple times that their contact with reality was fleeting.<br>"Not only that, Kai!", continued Berg. "Just look at _that_!"  
>He stood up and started waving some strip of paper in front of Kai's eyes. Major caught it and read quickly.<br>"Our quartermaster disappeared? What the…?"  
>"Supplies! Frakking Supplies!", said Berg, then levelled some more well-deserved curses on the Supplies.<br>"I bet they decided that there's somewhere else he'd be more useful!"  
>"I'll urge them to hurry up.", Kai proposed to calm down his superior and end the assault on his ears.<br>"Good! Do it now! Maybe he'll catch up with us before we're back!"

When Kai contacted Supplies, they stated that they're sorry, but there was a misfile and their quartermaster was sent away. He couldn't really be sent back, because by now he was on ship and halfway to the Camp West Point. Kai toyed with the idea of writing his brother about it, so that he'll meet with the man at the pier and send him back, but in the end Supplies promised to send someone else before army left.  
>Small hope for that, thought Kai gloomily, but he agreed.<p>

_Isenberg, Confederated Duchy of Isenwerk_

When _Midnight Glory _finally touched land in the capital of Isenwerk, Eric felt like praying to the Almighty. They arrived in Confederated Realms two days before the schedule, which was a blessing enough in itself, but just to make it better, the weather was just beautiful: no clouds and no strong sun.  
>While Eric was admiring the fact that he survived the trip, leaning on the railing aboard, Margaret patted him on the shoulder.<br>"I'm going offshore.", she said. He turned to look at her.  
>"To the Traders' Guild?", he asked, surprised. "We barely arrived! For that matter, shouldn't I go with you?"<br>"Oh, I'm not going to the Guild, hon. You may not know it, but Isenberg has _the _best dressmakers in the Confederacy, and I am going to use that." She chuckled. "You can accompany me if you want to, of course."  
>Eric eyed her. She hid it well, but they were married for some time already and he knew her, and the way her eyes drifted to the left when she really didn't want anyone to go with her. I wonder, he thought. I wonder.<br>"Are you sure you'll be alright?", he asked.  
>"Don't worry, I don't have to sneak into dark alleys to have a dress."<br>"Well, then. Have fun."  
>"Thanks, honey."<p>

He waited until she left the ship and set a course for wider street, then followed her.

Isenwerk port was full of people, but once he went deeper into the city, Eric noticed that crowd is thinning. That was both good and bad – good, because he had a good look at where Margaret is going, and bad, because she could notice he's following her.  
>Nothing to worry about, he told himself. If she sees me, I'll just say I was worried about her. But then, why didn't I accompany her from the beginning?<br>Well, the real reason was that he wouldn't see where she was really going, but what would he tell her?

Margaret turned sharply and he followed after a moment into much narrower street. It was full of people, to his surprise, mostly women and girls. Trying to find his way through without losing sight of Margaret, he noticed signs hanging over the entrances. Oh, so that was dressmakers' and tailors' street. Maybe Margaret really wanted to buy herself a dress.  
>But no – when he finally exited the commotion on its other end (excusing to two old crones whose feet he stepped on), he noticed the end of Margaret's green coat disappearing behind the corner. He muttered some excuses to the ladies who seemed furious with him and followed hurriedly.<br>This street was uncared for and empty and he followed at much greater distance, pulling the grabbed sailor's cap over his eyes and adapting much slower, more purposeless way of walking. He still ducked into some corner when he noticed she's about to turn around. Apparently she didn't notice him, because when he looked out, she was already turning into another narrow alley.

When he approached it, he heard the voices, talking in spatzsprach, language of Isles and Confederacy.  
>"Yeah, missy? And why would Drachner meet ya'?"<br>"Stop acting big", Margaret said with her Islander accent very clear against man's much less intelligible one. "If you don't tell him that Duchess is here, and he'll find out, you're in for a hell of a pain."  
>"Yeah, sure. Ready to believe you.", answered the bloke, but judging the sounds, he went inside.<br>A few moments later, new steps arrived and new voice said, with an accent worth Confederacy trade barons:  
>"Gretchen, Gretchen! So good to see you! Why haven't you told me earlier you are in the city?"<br>'Gretchen'? As far as Eric new, she hated this form of her name. And who's that man, anyway?

"Drachner.", Margaret answered courtly. "I've just arrived. You den is literally the first place I went to after getting offboard."  
>"Is it? That's nice of you!", said this Drachner man and there was a sound of crushed fabric. This man is hugging my wife, Eric realized with a shock.<br>"I have a problem I'd like to talk over with you, Drachner."  
>"All business, aren't we? Well, let's get inside. I bet you're hungry! Sea trips do this to you…"<br>With that, they went somewhere. Eric just stood in the place for some time.

Who is that guy? And what has Margaret to do with him? What is going on here?  
>He stepped away from the wall and strolled in front of the street, taking a short look at it. Small plate over the opened door read "Black Dragon Beerhouse". Yeah, sure, thought Eric. I just <em>bet <em>Margaret is discussing beer with that Drachner.  
>Huge bloke stepped outside of the beerhouse and glared at Eric.<br>"Off my street, drunk", he growled.  
>Eric obliged.<p>

Some roving later he managed to find what seemed like back entrance to the Black Dragon. Some barrels were cooling in the shadow next to the entrance. Behind the window over them Eric noticed some other bloke, much similar to the thugs uncle Andrew hired, pacing.  
>He decided to wait. Experience with uncle's men learnt him that thugs like that aren't very good at looking at things for a long time. Whoever that was, for that matter, he was definitely not after the guardsmen training that would cure him of bad habits. In a moment he'd probably find something more interesting to do.<br>It took some time but indeed, after a while thug wandered off somewhere. Eric looked around and then went to the door casually. At first, he considered trying to enter, but thought better of it. They were probably locked. He looked behind the window. Behind it there was apparently some sort of guard's room, sparsely furnished and tiny. Nothing useful.  
>He was about to start despairing when he noticed that there is another window, slightly open, one floor higher. When he listened, he heard voices coming from up there.<p>

Quickly, he climbed on the barrels, hearing them creaking under his boots. He stood on his toes and tilted his head to catch as much of conversation as possible. Silence – apart from creaking of the barrel he stood on – let him do it without much problem. Over the clicking of cutlery on the plates and cut food he heard voices.  
>"…course it's a problem for me, Gretchen." It was Drachner. "I know perfectly that this might mean end of the business for me. I'm making profit because my ships can escape navies. But what could they do if she just freezes the sea around them?"<br>They're talking about queen Elsa, Eric realized, part of his mind wondering if cover of the barrel isn't breaking under his boots.  
>"It is a problem for me as well, Felix. Did you know she just decided to spite Weselton and cut the trade? And my brother got sent back in country in chains!"<br>"Felix"?! They're on the first name basis?!  
>"Something tells me that the last one isn't really the matter for you.", noticed Drachner. "But I'd be glad to help with the first one."<br>"That would be nice, but my fool of a husband just won't accept it."  
>Fool of a husband, Eric thought, more and more angry. I'll keep that in mind. Wood creaked under his feet.<br>"Then he doesn't have to know."  
>"Of course. But still, that's only part of the problem."<br>"Oh? How's so?"  
>"Do you really think that with that much power on her hands – and with what she's already done – she's going to be a peaceful monarch? Of course not, Felix! I'm telling you-"<br>Eric didn't find that one out, because at that moment the cover finally gave up and he fell with a scream he couldn't silence in time. His legs wet with beer, he jumped to his feet and noticed the guard behind the window. Cursing, he broke into sprint.  
>Eric was a fast runner, and adrenaline gave him wings. Before thug managed to unlock the door and run in search for him, he was already turning into tailors' street, dripping beer all the way and panting. The women there looked at him in disgust, apparently thinking he's some portside drunk, so he had little problem going through them.<p>

He finally managed to find some clothes shop and purchase a pair of trousers roughly the right size. His own trousers, along with the boots, landed in the trash bin. Feeling rough, cold stone under his feet, Eric trotted back to the ship, wondering whether Margaret noticed it's him – and whether he should talk to her.  
>He wasn't really sure. He didn't trust his wife enough.<p>

_Camp Northwest_

This time Supplies were good on their promise. Twenty hours before planned leave, Gram knocked on Kai's door and shoved his unshaved head inside.  
>"Yer new quartermaster, sir", he announced, then left.<br>Inside came the man who seemed somewhat familiar, although Kai couldn't really decide why. He was tall and built like a mountaineer, solidly. His dark red hair were in complete disorder. Badly trimmed mustache found its way under the fellow's rather impressive nose. Kai didn't really recall knowing someone like that.  
>I must've seen him when I was at Supplies, he decided finally. Meanwhile, the man saluted without much zeal and said:<br>"Christian Mikkeli, sir. As your sergeant said: I'm the new quartermaster. Supplies apologize for their trouble."  
>"Yeah, sure.", answered Kai, wondering why the man had Arendellean name but mountaineer surname. "Anyway, that's a problem for you. Berg will skin you alive if we'll leave later than he planned."<br>He noticed Mikkeli swallowing. He must've seen Berg – general was twice as large as the quartermaster.  
>"Wouldn't want that to happen", Mikkeli said finally. "Where do I work?"<br>"Wherever you're needed.", answered Kai, then stood up from his desk. "But you've got a paper storage."  
>He led quartermaster into middle sized room and showed it to him. Mikkeli scowled.<br>"What a mess."  
>"Yeah. You've got twenty hours. Good luck."<p>

He left Mikkeli there, bent over papers on the desk, and knocked on general's door.  
>"Our quartermaster arrived.", he said upon entering. "He do seem eager to finish in twenty hours."<br>"He'd better.", murmured general. "Tell him to get us more muskets."  
>"Sir?", asked Kai, surprised.<br>By the traditional tactics of Royal Army, there were supposed to be two pike-armed soldiers for every musket-armed. If Kai remembered the numbers correctly, right now the quota was one to one.  
>"I'd rather be on the safe side.", said the general. "Boy, don't underestimate soldier's ability to lose or break his equipment."<br>"Alright, sir, I'll tell Mikkeli that."

Quartermaster didn't seem very happy about it - as a matter of fact, he seemed rather unhappy about everything - but got back to work.  
>"Can't promise anything, though.", he said. "It's a small wonder that you managed to gather this much."<br>"Do what you can.", Kai advised him.  
>"Sure. I remember what you said about skinning."<p>

As a matter of fact, they left two hours later than planned. Berg seemed adamant that he'll wait for the additional muskets and all else that was to go with them. Only after they finally arrived and Mikkeli found them a place in supply train did he agree to move out.  
>For such a short time, quartermaster did quite a job, although he confided in Kai that he'd still have to work on it on the road, which meant that army's progress could slow down to snail's pace.<p>

But all in all, Madsen was satisfied that he finally got out of Camp Northwest. He wasn't really sure why, though - he'd have to spend days on Spot's back, after all.  
>He sighed and approached the horse without much excitement. After some wrestling with the saddle he finally managed to sit on the horse. He turned around, satisfied, only to see Mikkeli looking at him with something of an amazement. Quartermaster himself sat on a middle-sized reindeer who tried to eat a bit from faraway grass clump. Kai felt himself reddening at the thought that the man watched his ridiculous horse-management skills.<br>"Do you mountaineers all ride reindeers?", he asked, trying to cover embarrassment.  
>"Not if we're generals.", noted Mikkeli, pointing at Berg. General mounted a huge, black stallion, obviously full of martial glory. Kai turned to see it better…<br>…suddenly the saddle slid and he with it, squeaking and grabbing spots with his feet. Moment later he was hanging upside down.

He was breathing hard for a few seconds. Then he noticed Mikkeli and reindeer looking at him. Somehow the animal's stare annoyed him even more than human's.  
>"Need help?", asked Mikkeli with look of sheer amazement.<br>He almost answered "no" before reason kicked in.  
>"Yes. Preferably before anyone else sees me."<br>Finally Mikkeli fastened saddlebelts properly, while Spot stood there with philosophical calmness. Kai managed to get on the horse and both men joined the train.  
>"Major", inquired quartermaster. "What do we need all those muskets for?"<br>Kai shrugged.  
>"I guess Berg has his reasons."<p> 


	4. Chapter 4: Little Hans

_Koenigsberg_

Little Hans' bedroom was kept in shades of light gray and blue, which, combined with his traditional choice of attire, made him nearly blend in. Friedrich didn't comment on it, even though he really wanted do.  
>"So, brother", he started, leaning on the door. "What am I supposed to do with you?"<br>Little Hans didn't even look at him. He was lying in his bad, staring at the ceiling.  
>"Well, I figure you could let me go and we'd all forget all this ever happened. It's not like anybody ever noticed me anyway."<br>"Oh, stop painting yourself as a victim!", said Friedrich. "You really think that I can do that?"  
>"Why not? It's not like Arendellans are here, or anywhere close, for that matter." Hans turned to look at him. "I'm telling you: you let me go, I disappear on Westerguard for some time, we wait few week and all is fine!" He punctuated the last one by throwing his hands to the ceiling.<br>"Yeah, sure. No, Hans, this time this just isn't happening."  
>Little Hans… No, I should stop thinking about him as "little", thought Friedrich. You don't call a would-be murderer like that.<br>Hans commented his statement with a snort.  
>"So what <em>is <em>happening? You obviously have no idea, _Your Majesty_."  
>"Oh, you're right about that. Right now my choice is between being disowning you and taking Westerguard away from you. For starters."<br>He expected that to move Hans somewhat, but the only answer was him folding his hands.  
>"Sure. It's not like I need Westerguard. Feel free to take it."<br>Friedrich was close to answering where Hans can put his choices when he remembered the old story about the rabbit and the briar patch.  
>"Well, if you say so, I'll write the necessary papers today."<br>Silent fell. Hans didn't answer.  
>"Don't want to talk? Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Because believe me, Westerguard won't be all you're going to lose."<br>"For _what_?"  
>Friedrich's snort could rival Hans' in amount of emotions it expressed.<br>"Oh, I don't know! Uhm, wait, wait… what could it be? Hm-hm-hm… Oh, I know! For breaking the nose off my statue! No?"  
>"You're not being amusing in the slightest."<br>"I'd be a terrible jester.", agreed Friedrich and added more soberly, "But that's beside the point. I don't have to tell you yet another time why you're being punished… And I don't want to listen to any more of this witchcraft bullshit"  
>Hans told him what Friedrich can do then and Friedrich decided that he had enough of this conversation. He left.<p>

The same spot was occupied in the evening that day by prince Michael, although the king didn't know about it. When prince stood in the entrance, announced by the guards who were supposed to restrict access in and out of little Hans' suite, youngest of von Schwalbe brothers actually sat in his bed.  
>"Michael. Nice to see you, especially after Friedrich."<br>"With his look of a beaten-up docker? I'm not surprised. Hello, Hans. How are you doing?"  
>"Take a guess", said Hans, standing up and pouring himself from the carafe. "Do you want anything to drink? I've got only water, I'm afraid."<br>"Our graceful monarch doesn't even let you get drunk?", asked Michael with a smug smile. He rose his hand, revealing that he was keeping a bottle of Westerguard lager in it.

Few moments later they were sitting by the table in gray-and-blue living room of the suite, drinking. Michael let little Hans taste the beer before asking:  
>"So, tell me, because I'm curious. What actually happened in Arendelle?"<br>"I bet you've already read the letter the ice queen sent with me.", answered Hans. He did seem to be in better mood, though.  
>"I did, of course. It didn't mention much beside what you did, though. And it seems like there was a hell of a story behind it."<br>Little Hans didn't have to be convinced for much more longer and moments later he told the entire tale - without, Michael noticed, denying that he tried to have both princesses killed. Maybe he had already realized that there's no point in that.  
>Even so, Michael decided to take his claims with a grain of salt, although he didn't tell little Hans so.<br>"It didn't go all that bad.", he stated instead. "I mean, you couldn't have known how the stupid magic works. Or that Elsa's temper tantrum would be so epic."  
>"Still, I nearly made it.", said Hans, staring into his glass.<br>"Yep, you nearly did."  
>They drank for a moment more before Hans looked at Michael with his eyes narrowed.<br>"How did you get in here, anyway? I'm fairly confident I've heard Friedrich decreeing that nobody except for guards, a servant and _His Majesty_ himself would be allowed to see me."  
>"Oh, please. This idiot doesn't know about half of the things that are going on in this castle."<br>Hans nodded with a smile and turned for a moment to a guard standing at the door. The man answered with a bland stare. Michael watched it for a moment before noticing that little Hans' stare was… slightly more calculating than one would expect from him.  
>That was… unsettling.<br>"He can hardly keep track of his own family, for that matter.", he said to mask this feeling. "Would you believe what happened in the morning? That little problem princess Anna…"  
>He didn't finish, because little Hans jumped as if he sat on a needle. Michael rolled his eyes.<br>"I mean Anna daughter of Friedrich, not princess of Arendelle, you idiot."  
>"Yes. Right. Sorry. You were saying…?"<br>"She started to walk on the table! Would you believe? The heiress to the throne, acting like that?"  
>Hans nodded slowly.<br>"Yeah, somehow I would believe it."

They were talking for some more time before guard signalized that end of his shift is coming. Michael nodded and they said each other goodbye. Little Hans walked him to the door.  
>"Anyway, would you try to arrive again?", he asked with a smile. "You're the only person who wishes to talk with me, apart from Friedrich. But he mostly comes to taunt."<br>"Sure, why not. Uhm, Hans?"  
>"What? Ouch! I'm sorry!", he said to the guard he just bumped into. "I really am!"<br>"No problem.", murmured the guard. "You can't go any further, though."  
>"Sure. Sure. See you Michael."<br>"See you."  
>Michael went down the corridor rather pleased with himself. Little Hans, with all his blabbering, has supplied him with enough ammunition to sink Queen Elsa. As to all necessary to sink Friedrich, Michael could come up with it by himself.<p>

Outside was dark and cloudy, as one of the last rains of the year appeared to be sneaking in the falling night over the vigilant eyes of naval skywatchers. Wind was rising as people were trying to light the lamps and close the shutters before imminent storm. One by one, faint flickers appeared, sometimes a few times before they stayed for good. As per Islanders' tradition, lamps hung outside of the houses had variety of colors, reflecting the professions of people living in there. Here, in Koenigsberg, one could see mostly blue of sailors and green of port workers, but the further from port, the more different ones could be seen - yellow for tailors and shoemakers, white for priests, orange for merchants and so on. Having hung the lamps, Koenigsbergians were retreating back into their houses, closing the door shut to hide from the weather. Streets were empty, save for the few homeless or people who were unlucky enough to have to go out in such a time.

Prince Hans von Schwalbe, graf von Westerguard, leaned on the wall, looking out of the window. It was a thing of beauty in itself - constructed like a mosaic, from a dozen little pieces fit into spiderweb-like iron frame, and yet providing crystal clear view. It wasn't made as such only to inspire awe, though. The frame prevented anything - or anybody - bigger than a couple of fingers from going through it. Doubtlessly that's why Friedrich ordered such a glass pane - the last Hans was there, his window had a much simpler design.  
>That problem had been solved, though. In many ways, Hans considered it to be a lucky day, as far as you could justify anything with luck. He though he'd have to wait more time before circumstances favoured him, and yet there he was, both parts of the plan in their place.<br>He wasn't very sure about the weather, though. On one hand, it made him virtually invisible unless he was in range of one of the golden lamps signifying aristocracy. On the other, it brought the promise of rain, and rain would be major setback.

The clock in his head told him that there was an hour left to the guard shift throughout the castle. He turned around to see the guard watching him from suite's door.  
>"You won't mind if I close the door, Bernard, will you?", he asked politely. "I'd rather change without anybody watching me."<br>It was a worked out routine already. Bernard - Hans made an effort to learn names of his watchers - nodded and entered the living room.  
>"Good night, prince Hans.", he said.<br>"Good night, Bernard.", answered Hans without moving away from the window. Guard closed the door to the bedroom and a moment later Hans heard the key being turned in the lock.

He waited some time to make sure Bernard exited the suite. When a muffled sound of the outside door being shut reached his ears, he walked quickly to the drawer under the mirror. From there he took a small key he had stolen from Patrick when he was walking Michael to the door, and another one, stolen from the woman that cleaned his suite. He checked if all is fine with them, then opened the door to his closet with another key. Friedrich made sure that all of Hans' outdoor clothes were taken from him, but that didn't bother Hans all that much. It was still the time of the year when winter indoor attire was suitable for going out at night.  
>Moments later, with a small lamp, purse and carafe of water hanging from his belt, he carefully put the guard's key into small hole in the window's frame, then turned. Lock, well-oiled by the servant upon Hans' insistence and threat, turned soundlessly. He opened the window.<br>The wind, thankfully, wasn't yet strong enough to pull it out of his hands. It smelled of sea and rain. Hans breathed in and smiled. That was step one. Now time for step two.

As a child, Hans was climbing the castle walls, roofs and balconies a lot, especially after he learned just how much he can eavesdrop that way. It had proven useful in Arendelle, with princess Anna jumping all around their palace like a wildwoman, and it was about to prove useful right now.  
>The grips were where he remembered them to be. Having exited the room entirely, he started to climb down, hand by hand, foot by foot.<br>One of the grips seemed to be worn out, though. Suddenly Hans found himself hanging by one feet and one hand, twenty meters over the ground level. He cursed silently, trying to grab something else, with his hand aching more and more. The damn grip kept on escaping him and the shoe was only scratching the wall…  
>Finally he managed to do it. He hanged, nearly hugging the wall, for a moment, then looked to the sides, up and down. Apart from faraway guards at the castle wall, standing by the torchlight under small roof, entire place seemed abandoned. Hans resumed his descent.<br>When he felt the decoration of the window on the lower floor, he started to walk to the left, towards the guards' path. That was the riskiest part. He bet that in such weather the watchmen would be hiding under roofs, but if even one proven more dutiful than others, or if he heard something suspicious enough to check it, then he could come from behind the corner at the worst possible moment. Then all chances would be lost, as Friedrich would be sure to put Hans in a room with either no windows, or ones too small for him to fit through.  
>With such unhappy thoughts, he slowly approached the corner, stepping on the marble window decorations as he did so many times before. Finally he extended his left leg and searched with it for the wall's battlements. The worst moment to be discovered… He found it and move his body weight on the left leg, then moved his hands until he was hugging the corner from both sides. He then moved his other leg, pushed himself away from the wall, turned around and jumped off the battlement on the guards' path.<p>

He breathed deeply, then looked around. When he noticed light under the roof, he crouched immediately and moved close to the outside battlement. Unfortunately, the roof and two guards underneath it stood between him and the tower that would lead him to the servants' exit. He cursed silently again and set on waiting.  
>About twenty minutes later, by the count of the clock in his head, the time for the shift has come. Guards must had realized the same, for one of them yawned, turned to his companion and said something with a sour smile. The other nodded and both of them started to walk towards the same tower Hans was aiming at. Prince waited until they walked about two meters, then followed, first looking back. The other guards, it seemed, were waiting for their successors as they should, or hadn't realized yet that it was shift's time.<br>When the guards disappeared in the tower, Hans stood up and run through the remaining meters. Hearing voices, he stopped instantly and ducked to the small space between tower entrance and the castle's outer wall.

Moment later the shift, still half-blind in the dark, emerged from the tower, chatting between themselves and cursing the weather. None of them even turned back to look in the deep corner where Hans hid, nor did they stop for any reason. They were passing by him for about a quarter of a minute before going out of Hans' earshot. Last pair of them stopped at the closest post, rest passed by to relieve the rest. Hans waited few more seconds, listening for any latecomers, but none appeared.  
>He had very short time before the rest of the just ended shift would be coming the same way, and they were sure to notice him. Glancing at the closest pair, Hans jumped to the tower and disappeared inside.<p>

Jumping two steps at once, he made it down, then stopped by the entrance. It seemed that nobody was outside, so he walked out, keeping a calm pace in case somebody was looking from the windows, and walked in the shadow to the small gate the servants used. When he reached it, he pulled out the second key out of his pocket and put it in its lock. He started to turn it.  
>"Hello, mister." He froze as he heard the voice from the other side. "Finishing late, aren't we?"<br>He calmed himself down, thinking. It was the guard, of course it was the guard. They wouldn't leave the back entrance to the castle unguarded.  
>"Yeah, you know how it is.", he said, trying to imitate singsong accent of Westerguard Island as he opened the gate. "Do this, do that, do schmat… What's 'working hours'?"<br>"Ha! You're not alone in that!", answered the guards. Closing the gate behind him, Hans smelled the oil from the lamp the man held. He didn't rise his head, just in case.  
>"Be sure to come home before it starts raining."<br>"I will. Have a nice night!", he answered, starting to walk down the alley.  
>"Impossible, but thanks. Goodnight!"<br>And with that, Hans escaped Schloss Schwalbe.

The sun hadn't appeared yet when Captain Valdemar Schwalzmaar of small merchant ship _Lucky Zephyr _finished inspecting his vessel and turned to his wife.  
>"Well, seems like the storm spared us", he said. "This time."<br>"Stop doomsaying.", Lidka Schwalzmaar advised him. "We'd better prepare _Zephyr _to leave if you really want to catch the first high tide."  
>"Well, I do, even though we probably won't manage it. Wake up the rest of those sleepyheads, would you?"<br>An hour later the a quarter of the sun was already over the horizon, shining on roofs and cobbled streets wet with the night's rain. The crew of _Lucky Zephyr _was close to meeting her captain's another mad deadline. Valdemar himself was finishing the morning tea, screaming at his crew from time to time just to preserve his image, when he noticed a stranger approaching, with _Zephyr _clearly his destination. The man, soaked redhead with striking green eyes, stopped in front of the ship and looked at Valdemar with a pleasant smile.  
>"Hello?"<br>Schwalzmaar leaned out of the ship towards the stranger. Man was rather well dressed, even though the clothes seemed worn out. Or maybe it was the rain that made them look like it.  
>"Hello!", he answered. "How can I help you?"<br>"Folk down the pier told me you're swimming to Westerguard island?", man answered, unsure.  
>"Yeah, that's true."<br>"Would you take a passenger?", he asked with obvious hope in his eyes. "I can pay."  
>Valdemar considered. Man - more like older teenager - looked wealthy enough for Schwalzmaars to squeeze some nice money out of him. Valdemar looked at his wife. Lidka shrugged, so he turned back to the man, still staring up at him.<br>"Sure, why not. Gangplank is to your right."  
>"Thank you, sir!"<p>

Half an hour later _Lucky Zephyr _passed the Koenigsberg Port lighthouse and entered the Inner Sea. They've barely managed to catch the high tide.


	5. Chapter 5: Missing data

_Koenigsberg_

King Friedrich's fury was a thing to fear. Guards on the castle walls tried their best to blend in with the battlements as they've heard shouts and screams of rage coming from the window. Glass, spiderweb-framed like the one in prince Hans' bedroom, was broken a long ago, when massive ebony chair hit it with full force of six-feet-tall man. Now people listened in fear to the sound of broken furniture, kicked objects, shattered glass and roars of fury piercing the morning air. They haven't heard His Majesty to be this furious for a long time and they were waiting for the his next coherent words like a convict for the arrival of executioner.  
>It must've been an hour before His Majesty ran out of the things he could smash or rip into pieces. After that, the long awaited and yet feared silence fell as the people on the walls and in the courtyard stopped and listened to hear whom will the royal wrath befall.<br>Finally, after long minutes, the scream - worn down and much calmer, but scream nonetheless - was heard:  
>"I want to see captain Braun! Right <em>f <em>now!"  
>Commander of Kingsguards was known as something of party pooper and joykill, but right this moment, the entire crew of Schloss Schwalbe pitied him.<p>

In contrast to his servants' urban legends, Friedrich preferred to take his rage out on objects rather than people. Thus when captain Eduard Braun entered the royal suite, His Majesty was waiting in the anteroom of royal suite, having changed into clean clothes and holding a glass of fine Coronian vodka.  
>"Take a seat.", he said harshly when Braun saluted. After commander did that, Friedrich pierced him with a stare.<br>"How. How the _f _did this happen."  
>"Well, Your Majesty…", Braun wriggled nervously in his seat, too comfortable for his taste and yet absolutely uncomfortable under his lord's eyes. "He said goodnight to corporal Schwarz and guard closed the door, just like every night… and when corporal Wittbrott came to change Schwartz, he opened the door to check if all is fine, just like every night… Only he found the window open and no prince Hans."<br>"What time was that?"  
>"About two o'clock at night, Your Majesty."<br>"And you didn't wake me up because…?"  
>Because Braun wanted to find prince Hans and bring him back before His Majesty found out about anything, which would save him the scene of royal wrath in the middle of the night. Alas, no such luck, apart from the fact that wraith was postponed to the morning. Prince Hans was absolutely gone and there was no idea where he might be.<br>"I… hoped to solve this problem before you awoke, Your Majesty."  
>"Ah… You hoped to. Well, that obviously didn't happen."<br>"Uhm, yes, Your Majesty. It didn't."  
>"It's so nice you agree with me." King's voice was dripping with acid. "Now tell me - how did Hans, first: managed to open himself the window, second: managed to go past your guards without being noticed, and third: exited the castle with no one the wiser?"<br>"Uhm, Your Majesty… As to the first case, he obviously opened the window with the key. There are only three keys to this window total and I'm collecting them all…"  
>"How hard it is to collect three keys, really?"<br>"Not hard at all, unless one happens to be missing, Your Majesty."  
>"Ah… and who did it belong to?"<br>Braun didn't answer until king's stare became beyond endurance.  
>"It was supposed to be in possession of guard at the door. None of them remember who was the last man to hold it, though."<br>"How many of them are there?"  
>"Four."<br>"Arrest them."  
>"Your Majesty…!", Braun nearly jumped from his seat; king's stare put him back in it.<br>"You've heard me. One of them either gave Hans the key or let himself be robbed of it. They are all to be held in the castle prison until one of them reveals himself to be guilty of either cooperation with prisoner or criminal negligence."  
>Braun wanted to argue, but His Majesty was obviously in no mood for that.<br>"Yes, Your Majesty.", he said finally.  
>"Great. Now, how did he get by the guards and gates?"<br>Braun took a deep breath, not wishing to send any more of his man into prison and yet not willing to mislead or uninform his king.  
>"It must've happened during the midnight guard shift, Your Majesty. Guards go back and forth then and it would be easy for a man to slip through."<br>"Ah. Indeed."  
>That didn't bode well.<br>"So, captain, it is your job to design _new_ procedures for Kingsguards that will take such a possibility into account."  
>And how am I supposed to do that? My people are not clockwork mechanism, to work perfectly regardless of their mood!, thought Braun. But again, king was in no mood to argue.<br>"Yes, Your Majesty."  
>"Wonderfully. You can go now."<br>Braun stood up, saluted and went to the exit. King's voice stopped him by the door.  
>"Ah, Braun? I want all the sea traffic from Zisch stopped, wherever the port, and Hans' posters send around. Set the price of ten thousand marks to anyone who'll find him… or no, fifty thousand. And no ship leaves unless Kingsguards or Cityguards check the crew and the vessel."<br>Oh, dear. Merchant and fishing guilds will be screaming any moment now.  
>"Of course, Your Majesty."<br>"Great. Dismissed."

_Isenberg_

As it happened, Margaret knew someone in the Traders' Guild as well, so they were admitted rather quickly and with warmer feelings than one might expect. Guildmaster, middle-aged man named Treschi, was more or less the same as usual Confederate officials Eric met - focused on profit and full of feeling of superiority. At the end of the day, though, it seemed like their negotiations were going rather well.  
>Of course now there was this little matter that neither Eric nor Margaret mentioned anything to <em>Weselton <em>officials. They didn't tell Treschi about it and guildmaster was apparently convinced that heir apparent and his wife are there as an official delegation, albeit small one. He also seemed to believe that Weseltonians would rather their dealings remain a secret, although Eric had no idea why would they.  
>"So, what now?", he asked, trying to keep his voice normal. He still hadn't talked with Margaret about mysterious Felix Drachner or what is her connection to him. He didn't feel like confronting her about it either.<br>"I think we should tell your parents about it.", she answered. "They don't know anything about it, after all."  
>"Unless they actually started to do the same in another Confederated Realm.", Eric noticed grimly and Margaret chuckled.<br>"Oh, dear, I hope not."  
>After a moment she put out a fan and started to wave it. It was rather a gesture of contemplation than cooling, as the temperatures were still wondrously pleasant.<br>"We don't have any ambassadors in Isenwerk, right?", she asked.  
>"No, I'd go to them already.", answered Eric. "We do have one in Runich, though, that's less than two days ride from here."<br>"Then I guess we should send the message there, telling them what we'll doing."  
>"At least they won't be surprised this way.", he agreed.<br>"Sure. Let's send somebody to Weselton, too."  
>"Yeah, right."<br>Eric wondered if one of her ideas has some sort of hidden purpose. He decided he need to watch her very closely if she'll insist on sending messages herself.

Short visit to the courier station and they paid for coded message to Runich. Eric wrote it and sent it, keeping an eye at Margaret all the time, but she seemed more interested in the exposition of lady coats across the street than in sending any messages. Maybe I'm seeing shadows, he asked himself. Maybe there's no hidden purpose and Drachner is "only" her friend…  
>No. They were planning something. Who could Drachner be? Eric roamed around the courier station, pretending to be interested in its workings. It wasn't as if there was anything complicated - messages were sorted and passed to the couriers, who got on their horses and left. But it gave him time to think.<br>He repeated Drachner's and Margaret's conversation in his head. Drachner said that his business depends on his ships' ability to escape the navies, and that he may help Margaret with the cut trade. Smuggler, then. What would be smuggler's business there?

Well, smugglers profit from no official trade. Then he shouldn't want Weselton to resume trade with Arendelle, because right now anything on that path would have to go through him or other smugglers. But then, if queen Elsa really did control ice - and Drachner seemed confident that it was no wild rumour - his business in the kingdom was endangered.  
>What could he do then?, Eric asked himself, trying to think like a smuggler lord. Either depose of the queen or find new territories. Which would be easier, then? To Eric's mind, obviously the latter - but perhaps there was simply nowhere Drachner could expand to? No, they wouldn't try to kill the queen…<br>And what was Margaret doing in the middle of all that, anyway?  
>He nearly jumped when she patted him on the shoulder.<br>"Hon, you've been staring at this horse for the last three minutes. I think it starts getting nervous."  
>"Uhm, yes, yes. You're right, honey. I kind of stopped for a moment."<br>"I've noticed! Shouldn't we go to the port?"

They arrived at the port when the sun was already setting and it was unlikely any ship would be leaving now. Calm in that assumption, they went to search for a vessel that would carry their message to Weselton. Sadly, it seemed like nobody would be going that way for the next few days.  
>"And what about this one?", asked Margaret, pointing at the ship by the next pier with her chin. Eric looked at it.<br>"I'm no sailor, but it looks like it's about to fall apart any minute now."  
>"Ha! You don't know ships, hon. That one might be worn out, but it seems sturdy enough to cross the Northern Sea."<br>"If you say so.", answered Eric, not really convinced. But he wasn't the one with seven sailor brothers, so he didn't argue.  
>When they approached it, his confidence wavered even more. <em>Cockroach,<em> as it was called, judging by the barely visible black pain on dirt-grey hull, appeared to be crewed by bunch of sleepy thugs. It did seem to have much space to put sails on, though, so maybe it was fast.  
>Eric was reminded of his earlier musings about smuggling. Well, let's see how this will play out.<br>"Excuse me, gentlemen, do you happen to be swimming to Weselton anytime soon?", Margaret asked umpteenth time.  
>"Gentleman", short man picking something from his teeth, stopped and turned to her. Fact that a lady talked to him seemed to have awed him slightly.<br>"Ma'be", he answered with thick accent. "D'pends on th' cap'n."  
>He turned to look at the man who was untangling some rope at leisurely pace.<br>"Ey, Cap'n! We goin' to Weaseltown soon?"  
>Eric gritted his teeth, hearing the moniker, and looked at his wife. Surprisingly, Margaret seemed hopeful.<br>"It might be the only ship that will be here soon enough.", she noticed silently when "cap'n" stood from his ropes and started to approach them.  
>"I don't think I'm that despaired.", answered Eric.<br>"Well, we can't really back off without excuse."  
>"I'm pretty sure they wouldn't mind if we left them alone."<br>They stopped talking when captain came to the railing. Eric notices that he looked much, much better off than his ship. Well, that says something about him, doesn't it?  
>"Yeah, we're leaving for the city come tomorrow morning.", he said in a voice much more pleasant to hear that his subordinate's. Well, I guess he makes most of the business deals away from his ship, though Eric.<br>"That's wonderful!", said Margaret. "We're trying to find a ship that would pass a message there, as quick as possible!"  
>"Ah, then you won't find anything faster than the <em>Cockroach<em>.", said the captain. "What's there to pass?"  
>Margaret passed him the envelope, saying:<br>"If you could please send it from the port."  
>"Sure, I just might."<br>Eric understood what captain's going at and pain the man two silvers. He took it with gratitude, obviously expecting less.  
>They said goodbye and left. Before they were out of earshot, Eric heard a scrap of conversation:<br>"Cap'n, ain't that two of them envelopes?"  
>"Maybe. But they paid us two silvers, haven't…"<br>How could I miss it?, Eric asked himself, furious. I wasn't even looking at her hands when she passed the message to the captain! Damn me!  
>"So, what now?", he asked out loud, thinking frantically what might've been in the second message.<br>"I know of a wonderful diner by the seaside, if it's still open.", she said cheerfully.  
>"Sure, let's go there.", he said, although more than anything, he wanted solitude to berate himself and second-guess Margaret.<p>

_Marching army, in the Arendelle mountains_

Kai felt like kicking the horse. Powerfully, if possible. However, Spot's kick would probably be stronger than his, so major contented himself with few murmured offenses towards horse's parents.  
>Next to him, Mikkeli's reindeer snorted with animal amusement. Svivan, as quartermaster apparently called him, proven to be first creature to laugh at Kai's expense when major was proving himself less than proficient with a horse and only Christian's obvious love of the animal stopped Kai from commissioning reindeer to meat grinder.<br>"Got him back under control?", asked Mikkeli, turning back to Kai. "'Cause I'd rather he didn't try to eat my shoes again."  
>"Yeah… I think.", said Kai. "You were saying…?"<br>"Uhm, yes. How the hell did you already managed to lose two hundred rifles?"  
>Kai's sharp movement in the saddle caused Spot to stop.<br>"_What?_"  
>Mikkeli backed to Kai and kicked Spot lightly to the side.<br>"Move, you lazy cart-horse."  
>Spot, o, wonder of wonders, actually resumed his pace. Mikkeli turned to Kai.<br>"Look, I get it, soldiers lose their stuff all the time, but you might think three feet long musket would be more… you know… less loseable."  
>"Well, it is. And we didn't even get to our training post yet." What the hell, Kai thought to himself. There wasn't much purpose for musket out of combat or training practice and nobody was practicing shooting here, in the narrow pass they were crossing right now. Maybe somebody was hunting? But no, Kai didn't recall hearing any shots for two days army's been out either.<br>"That's why I'm surprised", said Mikkeli. "Some said they lost it and other told me theirs are broken. They even showed some to me and I tell you, it looks like cart rode over them. But majority is lost. Maybe Berg was right to ask for all those extras."  
>"Maybe. But I think you should talk with their commander."<br>"You think I didn't? It's mostly the…", he thought for a moment, then checked. "Second battalion that's losing muskets."  
>"Major Andersen? Odd, he's not the one to lose equipment like that."<br>"Perhaps. He didn't seem too fond of me."  
>Right. Mikkeli had some hard time making acquaintances in the command staff, especially seeing how he wasn't very inclined to make them in the first place. More and more often, it was Kai who had to communicate with people on his behalf. On the other hand, Mikkeli seemed to be realizing - slowly but still - that this sort of approach was making him absolutely inefficient as quartermaster.<br>For now, though, situation was as it was. Kai sighed.  
>"Alright. I'll talk with him."<p>

All in all, army managed to cross the pass before sunset and set camp on the wide, mostly flat mountain slope. Weather seemed to favour them - skies were clear and temperature just right, even if a bit chilly. Kai heard from fellow officers that their people, especially newly conscripted, seemed to think that they were blessed by the Queen and that she was making the weather good for them… somehow. By ice powers. If she could make and unmake winter, why not summer?  
>Kai was inclined to think that she could do it, but it didn't validate talking about Her Majesty as if she was saint walking the earth. It sure as hell caused problems for army chaplains. Thankfully, it was not his thing to worry about. He had others.<p>

Andersen told him to come in before he finished talking to his aide. He entered the tent and found major over a bunch of paperwork, steaming tea by his hand.  
>"Let me tell you, Andreas, that's the best way to destroy weeks of work."<br>"Thanks, paper master. I shall take it under consideration."  
>He did take the cup off the table, though.<br>"You want some?"  
>Moment later, they both sat on folding chair, drinking.<br>"What is it, then?", said Andersen. "Or no, let me guess - Mikkeli sent you."  
>"Yeah, you're right."<br>"Ha! Maybe he should've gotten himself his own aide instead of borrowing general's all the time."  
>"Do you really believe Supplies would send yet another man before the end of the year?"<br>"Nah, not really. But my point stands."  
>Andreas leaned in his chair towards Madsen.<br>"Kai, I've got no idea what the hell is going on there. People just lose their rifles all the damn time and I know it's happening in other units as well, but hell, sixty in two days?! I can't imagine what could cause it and my aide is as helpful as a piece of wood!"  
>Kai's eyes narrowed. As far as he remembered, Andreas seemed to have good rapport with his aide.<br>"Ebbe didn't go with you when you took the Second?"  
>"Nope, they finally promoted him. But damn it, Kai…", he lowered his voice. "I feel like a stranger in my own battalion. And I know there <em>is <em>some reason why they keep on losing and destroying their guns, but I've got no idea _what_ it might be."  
>That didn't sound good at all, especially the fact that Andreas' officers didn't feel like making friends with him. That was total opposite of what people usually did.<br>"Maybe they're hoarding them somewhere?", asked Kai, worried. "And what happened to the previous commander of Second, for that matter?"  
>"Nonsense. What would they do with them?", asked Andreas. "As to the latter, major Friis got himself promoted to colonel and general Kristiani snatched him to the capital."<br>Kristiani. Kai couldn't recall whether or not he supported activists, but perhaps it was worth finding out. He made a mental note to find a way to check it.  
>"Alright, not much you can do, then. But tell your people that from now on Mikkeli will give them only one for each five they've lost."<br>"Oh, great. I just hope they won't start losing more to make up for the difference."  
>Kai only smiled sourly.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6: Loyal subjects

_Westerguard  
><em> _Lucky Zephyr _hit the pier without much force. Moorings were tied to the bollards, sails were dropped, and all other little details accompanying a ship stopping in the port were tended to by the crew, eager to do anything before captain Schwalzmaar starts screaming. He still did, just to stay in practice.  
>Westerguard was a small, misty island, and one composed almost entirely of a huge mountain for that. It did, however, had a shielded bay and it was the last safe port for a long time for ships swimming to the Southernmost Lands by the Stormbringing Ocean. Before discovery of the Lands, the port was simply a fishing village of indigenous Weste people, with a small keep just to mark Isles' presence here. <em>After <em>the discovery, though, it became one of the richest islands in the Isles, and the keep was elevated to a full-fledged fort with naval port attached. Even then, though, Westerguard duty or leadership were considered to be dubious honors, what with the island being nearly a week's way from Zisch and Koenigsberg. That caused the place to be staffed almost entirely by Weste, who in turn made some profits from all the ships stopping on the way. Most of the money went to the royal treasury, though.

Valdemar Schwalzmaar had no intention of swimming on the Stormbringer. Ocean would swallow his ship in the first days. He was there to sell and buy goods to the so-called pendulums, ships "swinging" between Southernmost port of Chixatua and Westerguard. One of that ships, massive behemoth three times the size of _Zephyr_, was standing next to her, dwarfing the vessel. From its railing a man in characteristic tall Port Service cap leaned out.  
>"Hello, <em>Lucky Zephyr<em>! We'll finish here in a moment and we'll get to you!"  
>"Understood!", Valdemar shouted back, then looked at his passenger. Hans Soor, as he called himself, seemed already packed and ready to go.<br>"Shouldn't you wait for the Port Service?"  
>"Nah, I don't think so." He smiled. "Pretty much everybody knows me here."<br>"Oh, really?" Valdemar eyed him with new interest. On the way Soor proven himself to be a charming persona, and obviously well-educated one, even if not all too well-versed with actual word.  
>"Yes, I work in the keep.", he explained.<br>"Alright." Valdemar nodded. "Then I won't be stopping you… Or maybe I will…"  
>"Oh…? Oh, right."<br>Soor opened his pockets and shook out fifteen golden pieces. Valdemar wondered why wouldn't he buy a pouch for them, or why didn't he have any baggage with him, but with how scatterbrained Hans had proven, he might have lost both of them anywhere.  
>Soor passed him the money and Valdemar counted them quickly in his head.<br>"All's set. Have a nice time on Westerguard, then."  
>"You too, thank you. Goodbye!"<br>He trotted off the ship and went down the pier to the fort road. Weste were short and stocky by default so Hans stuck out like a sore thumb among them. They were turning to see him and indeed, some even said hello as if he was known here.  
>A moment later Valdemar stopped paying his attention to Soor, as Port Service arrived.<p>

Once he was sure that he's out of captain's eyeshot, Hans slowed down to more leisurely pace, finding his way in the mist that enshrouded Westerguard nearly three hundred and fifty days a year. Some said that combined with endless clouds spawned by Stormbringing Ocean the atmosphere there was always gloomy, but Hans didn't really mind.  
>He felt slightly relieved that he didn't have to weasel his way out of payment. He managed to sell some royal goods he took with him when escaping, and when one pawnshop keeper wasn't looking, he took the money the man left in his drawer. He was still worried that it wouldn't be enough to pay greedy captain, but, to his slight amusement, he actually still had some.<br>Not that it mattered anymore. He was finally on Westerguard.  
>"Prince Hans!", said some man in the passing. "You're back!"<br>Hans tried to remember his name - he did recall the face - but failed.  
>"I am indeed. Is Vaucherd still in charge of the fort?"<br>"Why wouldn't he?", asked Weste.  
>"Right. Thank you."<br>He moved on, answering some hellos on the way. Road to the keep was a twisty one, just flat enough for a horse and paved with stone in case of a rain. It started to fall when Hans was halfway up. At this pace, he thought gloomily, I'll fall ill in the most inconvenient moment.

When he finally reached the gate, he was absolutely soaked. Feeling terribly undignified, he tried to wring and stretch his clothes, but they only seemed to have gotten more wet and crumpled. He resigned himself to knocking on the side door, then, trying to do it louder than rapping raindrops.  
>The skinny - for a Weste - man opened the doors, started to say something, then stopped suddenly, with eyes open wide as he recognized the silhouette shrouded in rain.<br>"Prince Hans!", he nearly shouted. "You… you're…"  
>"Back.", he finished for the man, then smiled. "Nice to see you, Massoix."<br>Fort butler blinked a few times, before remembering that he is, indeed, fort butler. He quickly moved to the side, holding the door open.  
>"Come in, prince, come in! <em>Bon sang<em>, you must be soaking wet!"  
>"I am", Hans agreed and enter, grateful to finally get off the rain. Inside, the fort was warm and dry. Hans got out of his white jacket and passed it to Massoix.<br>"Prince, we've heard you were arrested!"  
>"Well, I was. Notice the past tense, though."<br>Massoix stopped, then whistled. A moment later a wide grin adorned his slim face. Hans took it as a good sign.  
>"If you could please get me some tea and dry clothes? I hadn't changed for days now."<br>"Of course, prince. Of course. On it! Follow me, please. It's good you came today, I had the living quarters cleared just in the morning!", Massoix started to sprout words like bargaining shopkeeper, leading Hans down the corridor. "Servants murmured, what for?, nobody's here!, but what do you know? You're here, after all…"  
>Hans followed, relegating himself to silence and considering his next moves.<p>

Few hours later, warm and dry, Hans was sitting in the war room, middle sized chamber with a huge table in the centre. Around, most of fort's officers had sitting with him with various hot drinks of their choice. All Weste, apart from one, but admiral Hauser, who fell out of royal favour after drunken incident involving prince Ferdinand, was no more crown lover than the rest of them.  
>"Good to see you again, prince Hans.", he started, then took a sip of precious coffee from the south.<br>"Thank you. It's really good to see you too.", answered Hans, looking around at ten man gathered with him. "All of you."  
>"Pleasure is mutual, sir.", said Mousac, artillery commander only few years older than prince himself. "There are wildest rumours being told about what happened up north."<br>"You wouldn't believe them, sir.", added Vaucherd, garrison colonel, and the highest ranking officer here apart from Hauser and Hans. He leaned forward.  
>"May I ask, sir, what happened there?"<br>"Oh, you wouldn't believe…", Hans started to spin his tale.

All in all, he told them a good story. It had a hapless prince, who fell in the trap set for him by his heartless older brother. The brother conspired with calculative queen who had no morals. Hapless prince was framed and sent back in chains. His brother order him kept in those chains - on the outside, because of diplomatic concerns, but on the inside, brother was happy to get rid of his meddling, troublesome sibling. Just as he planned with the queen.  
>Hans even managed to weave Elsa's ice magic in the story. Weste believed in magic and their folklore had a thousand stories of evil witches who controlled terrifying powers. Hans had to use the phrase "Witch Queen" only once and they picked it up.<br>Perhaps, if they were to examine the details, they might've figured out something doesn't add up - especially Hauser, who didn't seem all convinced about magic. But all in all, is wasn't really about _what _the story was. It was about _who told it_.  
>King Friedrich made three mistakes with the Weste. First was establishing absurdly high royal taxes on all ships passing through the port. Weste saw all the wealth of Isles and Southernmost Lands passing in front of them - but them themselves got only scrapes of it. That was bad enough in itself.<br>Second mistake, though, was much, much worse from Friedrich's perspective. He thought Weste to be just another bunch of Islanders, but Weste weren't Islanders. They didn't think king could just order them around like another bunch of northerners, sending his tax collectors and officials who would impose themselves on locals, telling them how Islanders do their things without any consideration for how Weste would prefer to do them. Worse, those tax collectors and officials considered himself to be above such backward, "nearly barbarian" "Islanders" and acted accordingly. Kings position appeared similar, as, when he started his reign, the only island he didn't visit during his grand tour was Westerguard. Weste didn't like it at all.  
>It was third mistake that would cripple the king, though. Having proven himself to not care about them, Friedrich had sent his youngest brother to rule them, and Hans proven to pay attention, to side with them against royal officials, to help if there was trouble, to bother learning some Westenian language, to <em>care<em>.

And Weste loved him.

_Weselton_

Private port of Weselton princes was placed at some distance from the city port, behind of great curtain-like cliffs that form the entirety of Princedom's small coast. When _Midnight Glory _sailed between two majestic stone walls, Eric saw his parents already waiting on the pier. They were both dressed rather lighter than him, but after Isles and Confederacy, air in Weselton seemed chilly, almost cold, despite clear skies.  
>"They must've gotten a message from one of patrol ship", noticed Margaret.<br>"Yes, apparently.", he agreed, absent-minded. He was wondering about other things.  
>Did his parent's get his message? And who had gotten the other one? After sending the post, Margaret kept close to him, even dragging him for a dress fitting. To his eyes, it seemed uncannily similar to the one she usually wore in Weselton when not at official events, but he said it's lovely, just in case.<p>

When they moored, couple bid farewell to the captain and walked down.  
>"Welcome back!", said princess Elisabeth, Eric's mother. "We've gotten your message!"<br>"That's great", Eric said, at least one worry put to rest.  
>"Indeed. Nice to see you, son, Margaret.", said, much more calmly, prince Charles. "How did negotiations go?"<br>"Wonderfully!", Margaret exclaimed cheerfully.  
>"We've got official trade act in my luggage.", added Eric. "I'd like Jethro to take a look at it, but I think all is fine…?"<br>"It's not like we could do anything about it now.", noticed father. "Let's go, you look like snowmen in all those coats."

Sometime later, in the castle chambers, Margaret, Eric and his parents sat by the chimney, heated with Weselton coal. Lord Jethro, Royal Treasurer, looked at the document and found it faultless, then took it with him. Family engaged in idle talk, subject of which quickly turned to Arendelle.  
>"Yes, I am fairly confident that Elsa has some power over ice.", said mother, answering Margaret's question. "We have spies in Arendelle, after all."<br>Margaret was silent for a moment. Eric decided to ask the question she was probably thinking.  
>"You… are not kidding, I assume?"<br>"She's not.", answered father. "Our people reported that she can actually cover everything around her into ice. And there are the reports of… ice golem, I think you could call it, roaming around the palace."  
>"It's not like she's making any secret of it.", mother noted. "Would you believe she actually organizes ice rinks for children in the palace courtyard?"<br>"In the middle of the summer?", was the first Margaret managed to say.  
>"Yes! Exactly!" Mother nodded sagely. "One of our people actually went to visit it and he actually saw her making it. By…" She thrust her hands up in the air.<br>Eric nodded, slowly. He was slightly curious about the fact that it didn't seem to be much of a surprise for him. Well, he did hear Drachner talking about it as a matter of fact, and he did read his uncle's letter and initial reports. And whatever Islanders might claim and believe in, in Weselton existence of magic was considered more of a fact than fiction.  
>"That's kind of a silly waste of ability.", Margaret said, obviously composing herself. "I mean - such a power, and she makes <em>ice rinks<em>?"  
>"That's not silly, it's worrying.", father corrected her. "Just think. She froze her entire country, and now she relegated herself to little pools of ice. She must have enormous… power reserve, so to call it. More, her first great power display was giant in scale and she's said to have been out of control then."<br>"So you think she's practicing?", Eric asked.  
>"Yeah. The only question is what for." Father nodded. Before Eric had time to start worrying, prince continued.<br>"Either way, our generals requested a meeting today. Eric, I'd like you to accompany me at it. And Margaret, could you go with Beth to the official announcement of new trade deal? We've scheduled it for the afternoon."  
>Eric was just starting to protest when his mother cut in.<br>"Sorry, kids, but's that's how it is."

General Potter brought a map with him to the meeting, which Eric considered as a bad sign. It meant that he wanted to move army out, and father gave no indication that something's planned.  
>Apart from Potter, generals Windsor and Carter were present, forming the entirety of Weselton's land command. They were accompanied by colonel Hunter, who, officially cavalry officer, was actually chief of intelligence. He started the conversation after greetings and bows.<br>"Arendelle army is out on manoeuvres.", he stated and nodded to general Potter, who spread the map on the table. It showed both nations, North Mountain and mountain range Weseltonians called Broken Back, which formed the border between the two.  
>"They're here", Potter picked up, pointing at the small valley between northern edge of Broken Back and western slope of North Mountain. "And they've apparently been there for the last few days."<br>Eric nodded, slightly worried. There seemed to be no passages between the valley and Weselton grounds, and if Arendelle was thinking of invasion, there were better ways to do it.  
>"They don't seem able to endanger us from here.", he noticed. "It's way over the snow line."<br>"Sure, all passages are probably frozen.", said general Windsor, twirling his aristocratic mustache. "As long as somebody who can defreeze them doesn't come along, that is."  
>Eric understood their worry now. Queen Elsa was definitely capable of it, so yes, invasion became more probable danger.<br>"In all honesty, gentleman", said his father, "Do you have any other proof that it's anything more than just a regular training session? Royal Army is known for them, after all."  
>"That", answered Hunter, "depends how you treat the fact that everybody in the city seems convinced that manoeuvres are here…"<br>He pointed at the other side of North Mountain, where it turned into maze of jagged mounts and hills. Eric leaned over the map, curious and worried.  
>"They're all lying?"<br>"Or repeating what they've been told.", said Hunter. "Information could come from two sources only."  
>"The queen and the Royal Command.", father finished grimly.<br>"Indeed. There's also the fact that they cut all their ties to us. Historically, that was usually followed by declaration of war."  
>Eric nodded, feeling something to be very wrong. Why would Arendelle attack Weselton? Apart from last event with uncle Andrew, two countries were perfectly civil neighbors for all the years they've existed. Was uncle's stupidity enough to end that? Eric wholeheartedly hoped not.<br>Maybe if we gave them uncle Andrew, Elsa wouldn't be so furious with us. But no, that didn't make any sense either for Eric. Arendellans had sent him to them, after all. If they wanted to keep him, why not keep him?  
>Overhead, he heard father's question about generals' plans. Potter answered.<br>"We'd like to ask for you permission to send troops to the Broken Back. They wouldn't cross the border, of course, but I'd rather have someone there, just in case Arendellans make any sudden moves."  
>There was silence for the moment as Eric examined the small symbols on the edge between valley and Broken Back. I need better map, he decided finally, just as his father said:<br>"You have my permission. No attacking them unless you're under attack yourselves, though."  
>"Of course, sir.", Windsor answered for the four of them and they saluted.<br>"Is there anything else?", asked father.  
>"No, sir. We'd like to start planning this operation, though."<br>"Of course. Feel dismissed."  
>Two generals and colonel bowed, then left. General Carter, though, lingered for a moment.<br>"What is it, general?", asked Eric. "You weren't speaking at all during the meeting."  
>"It's nothing specific, Your Grace.", answered Carter, looking at the map. "I… was just wondering."<br>He shot the last glance at the valley, then bowed quickly and exited. Eric looked at him father.  
>"I don't like it at all.", he said simply.<br>"Me neither.", his father confirmed, looking as if enormous weight was put on his shoulders.

_Arendelle_

General Rasmus Kristiani exited the palace trying to keep anger boiling in him from showing outside. He passed the weekly ice rink, barely noticing crowd of cheerful children on it, and approached stableman holding the reins of his horse.  
>"Thank you", he murmured and thrown the man a copper, then saddled up and rode out of the castle grounds. Passing through the usual street crowds, he had some time to think.<br>Queen Elsa was impossible to convince anyhow, and it's not like Kristiani hadn't tried before. In many ways, she was as stubborn as her father - only in her case, it was worse, because late king Agdar would understand that Kristiani's idea is the best one out there. But no, Queen refused, and by doing so, gave Kristiani no choice.  
>He felt his anger melt, replaced by anticipation and a dose of excitement. He wasn't the plan's only author - Berg and Olafson were on it as well - but he was in the capital and it was him who'd give the signal that would start it all. Leaving the city on the road to Camp East, he kicked his horse into gallop, not to waste time. He felt himself smiling. Theirs was an audacious plan, but if it worked, it would pay off beautifully.<p>

Guard barely managed to open the door before Kristiani jumped in on his horse. Stopping it in the middle of parade ground, he called to his aide. The man appeared a moment later.  
>"Send the messages.", Kristiani ordered. "You know which ones."<p> 


	7. Chapter 7: Dead man walking

_Slope of North Mountain, Arendelle_  
>Kai took all the envelopes from the messenger and looked through them quickly, then passed two of them to Mikkeli, who was standing patiently few steps back, feeding carrots to the reindeer. The other two messages were for general Berg - one from Supplies and one from general Kristiani. Kai looked at Supplies envelope and shot a glance at Christian, who already opened one message.<br>"Sorry", quartermaster said, without looking up. "No more muskets. Not that I'm surprised, you know."  
>"Me neither.", Kai admitted, received messenger's salute and turned back to small wooden barrack that was general's headquarters. "Andersen won't be happy, though."<br>"In all honesty? I don't think I care all that much. Yhm, Kai, are you going to leave Spot just standing there?"  
>"What? Oh." Madsen turned to look at his horse, standing by the camp's entrance and looking thoroughly disappointed. The training camp was finally set nearly a hundred meters over the snow line and horses had to be fed from the sacks, giving Spot nothing to nibble on the ground. Steed compensated by throwing his rider off the saddle and generally being annoying, which was not funny when, beyond trodden paths, everybody was floundering in knee-deep snow.<br>Kai approached the horse and held his reins.  
>"Come on, buddy.", he told him and pulled gently. Spot, however, seemed glued to the ground. Kai pulled stronger, with no reaction.<br>"Oh, come on!", he said, turning back and trying to drag the horse behind him.  
>Result was something of a forgone conclusion. The moment he was pulling his strongest, Spot stepped forward and Kai landed face in the snow.<br>He stood up to see Christian and his reindeer hiding chuckles.  
>"Yeah, so funny.", he said, collecting general's messages and shaking the snow off.<br>Christian just shook his head, apparently distrustful of his own mouth. In the distance two man heard the boom, as training musketeers fired a salvo. Mikkeli went serious instantly and looked at the mountain.  
>"Aren't they afraid they'll cause an avalanche?", he asked Kai.<br>"Engineers checked it. They say risk is immeasurably low."  
>"Oh-kay.", said Christian, obviously not really believing engineers. Mountaineers probably have more first-hand knowledge than Arendellans, thought Kai, but general Berg didn't have any problems with it either, so well.<br>"Come on, you sack of annoying.", he told Spot. "Or you'll be the next target practice."  
>The horse apparently concluded that his master is angry enough with him to make good on his promise, because it obeyed instantly.<p>

General's quarters were made of wooden logs and heated by metal stove army carried with it for that purpose, keeping them pleasantly warm. Berg was sitting without his jacket by the table, reading some book. After Kai passed the messages, general looked at them, holding the Supplies' one between two fingers as if it was dead fish.  
>"No more toys for us for now, huh?", he said distastefully.<br>"Apparently.", Kai agreed. "At least that's what Mikkeli was told."  
>General cursed under his breath and took a sip of his whiskey (medical purposes, he said), then looked at the message from general Kristiani and froze suddenly.<br>"Kai, boy, find yourself something to do for the next hour, would you?"  
>Madsen blinked, unused to general acting like that.<br>"Uhm, sure, sir.", he saluted and exited, wondering.

_Koenigsberg_  
>Cell was eight feet wide and eight feet long. It held four man, a bucket and a flat sack filled with straw, which, out of politeness, one could call a mattress. In the beginning, four men took turns sleeping on the sack. Lately, however, one of them seemed to be falling out of favor with the others.<br>Sergeant Patrick Schneider sat in the corner of the cell, his back to the bars, while the others looked at him, speaking with each other in hushed tones. Braun gave them all a simple ultimatum: the moment one of them admits he's the one who let the key be stolen is the moment the other three are set free. They already worked out who did this - it's only that perpetrator didn't want to admit it and Braun wouldn't tolerate finger pointing.  
>Schneider had no intention to confess to the prison guards. In time, he reasoned, they would forget about the entire case and let them all go to free the space. Moreover, if he did confess, he'd become laughingstock of all Kingsguards, and would probably be thrown out of said Kingsguards as well.<br>Well, he'd be thrown out either way, really. But this way, he'd avoid mockery and much, much longer imprisonment that would await him if it was clear that he was an idiot who let the keys be stolen from him. Even longer one - if not death sentence outright - would await him had anybody found out the reason why the key was stolen.

He closed his eyes put his chin on the tucked-up knees, depressed. For the first few days, he hoped prince Michael would bail him out, but no such luck. For the next day, he was silently cursing the prince for abandoning someone he promised support to. Oh, yes. Prince Michael was promising much. But Patrick was fairly sure that if it was Friedrich or any other prince who ran such a scheme, he'd do much more to help his man. Because other princes had some shreds of honor. Perhaps apart from Hans. Hans would bail Patrick out mostly because if guard started talking, entire plan would fall apart.  
>After that day, Patrick was mostly depressing.<p>

He considered talking, on the promise that he'd not be killed. But His Majesty was quick to anger, and who said prince Michael didn't have a man among interrogators to push a knife between shoulders of too talkative minion?  
>With his eyes closed, Patrick didn't notice the other three standing up and approaching him with darkness in their eyes. When he realized what they're about to do, he wanted to scream, but hit to the solar plexus silenced him successfully.<p>

Beating was quick, painful and professional. By the time prison guards arrived and pulled the others away, Patrick was already half dead.

_Arendelle  
><em> Major had just finished his paperwork when Berg shoved his heads through the door.  
>"Kai, I've got to talk with you. Go to my office."<br>Madsen blinked. Berg seemed unusually serious. That has to be about this message from general Kristiani, he decided, putting the papers in the right file.  
>"Coming, sir."<br>"Great." The head disappeared and Kai heard the fading sound of footsteps on the ground.

When he entered general's office, Berg was not alone. With him there were all four colonels, and five of twelve majors. They were all grim, and they were all looking at Kai Madsen. He felt himself shivering.  
>"Sir?", he asked general, standing in the centre of the group.<br>"Come here, Kai. Let me explain."  
>He obeyed and heard one of the officers present close the door behind him.<br>"So, Kai… How to start it.", general leaned his elbows on the table. "I want to talk to you about safety of Arendelle."  
>"Sir?", Kai asked, unsure what it meant. General nodded.<br>"Please, listen to me for a moment."  
>"Uhm… of course, sir."<br>General nodded and stated:  
>"So yes. You are aware that, ever since the Great Freeze and the events at the coronation, we are basically in the state of cold war with everybody apart from Corona."<br>Kai nodded, not sure if that was true, but full of bad feelings.  
>"The main problems are, of course, Weselton and the Isles. I'm sure they are plotting a revenge on us even now, preparing to strike on us and raze us to the ground for what we already did and for what they fear we could do, had the Queen put her mind to it. Weselton's ores and army, combined with Isles wealth and navy, means that they could inflict monumental damage on us before finally being stopped."<br>General leaned forward, looking major straight in the eyes.  
>"Just think about it, Kai. Perhaps we could stop them. Perhaps Her Majesty would stop them. But think, how many Arendellans, men, women and children, would be killed before that happened? How many fields would burn, how many houses would be destroyed and raided? We've barely managing to stand on our own after Great Freeze. That would be even greater hit for us. Think of the famine, destruction, death."<br>Visions were terrifying in the detail Kai could create them in his head. He nodded silently.  
>"We can't have that. We <em>can't let it happen<em>, Kai. We must do something and, sadly… Queen appears to be blind to even slightest possibility that action needs to be taken."  
>Almighty. So that's what he's talking about.<br>"We've told her about the possibility dozen times, most of which you haven't seen and most of which were in private, where she didn't have to act for the audience. And yet, she's still pretending nothing's happening. So we've had to take matters into our hands.  
>"Diplomatic options are closed for us. Weselton and Isles must've already decided to act, because for them, speed must be factor. They'll be deaf to all pleads of peace. They'll be afraid of Her Majesty. Did you hear merchants and sailor, calling her Witch Queen? That's no compliment. That's fear, spreading already.<br>"But we must act, so there's only one option left for us that will let us preserve Arendelle."  
>Kai swallowed and said what he thought general's talking about.<br>"Preemptive attack.", he guessed. "Preventive war."  
>Berg smiled sourly, nodding.<br>"You nailed it. However I pity it, there's simply no other option. The only way to protect Arendelle is to attack."  
>He nodded to himself and continued.<br>"Isles are obviously too far away and by attacking them, we'd leave Arendelle on the mercy of Weselton. Therefore it's Weselton we have to strike. There is plan in the motion for that and if we manage to succeed, we'll secure Arendelle for years to come."  
>They're planning a war. My god, they're planning to start a war.<br>"I don't think Her Majesty will be all too happy when she finds out.", Kai managed to say with a lump in his throat. "And I don't think there's a way of waging this war without her finding out eventually."  
>"No, there isn't. But when the war starts, she'll have no choice but to help us. And if she refuses to aid her people in a war of their survival…"<br>Berg slowly shook his head.  
>"Then she's not the queen I would serve."<br>Kai nodded sharply. Berg leaned even closer.  
>"Kai, I understand you're stressed and worried. But that's the only way. Can I count on your support?"<p>

The question, expected and yet unexpected, hung in the air. Kai felt himself shivering when his minds came up with thousands pros and cons, old oaths resounded in his head, visions of war floated in front of his eyes…  
>And suddenly, he made the decision in a heartbeat. He blinked and nodded weakly, not sure to who exactly.<br>"Yes, sir.", he said. "But I… I just have to…"  
>He caught his head in his hands, scared of the question whether he was really lying. General nodded, first to him and then to somebody else. Suddenly Kai realized that all around him people relaxed, and that just a moment ago every single one of them was ready to put a sword in his bowels, had he declined.<br>"You must come to term with this decision.", said general in supportive tone. "I understand. It's not easy one to make."  
>He stood up.<br>"Go, catch some fresh air. Have a ride, or a walk. Clear your mind. We'll meet in the afternoon and I'll explain all to you in detail."  
>"Thank you, sir.", Kai managed to say, then saluted and escaped from the room.<p>

What should I do?, Kai asked himself as Spot picked a path between the tents. He didn't even noticed that the horse tried to wander in the middle of one. Soldier next to it forced the horse off and wanted to tell major some joke about his horsemanship, but he abandoned the idea the moment he saw Madsen's troubled, absent-minded expression.  
>What should I do?, Kai asked himself again. They… they aren't traitors. They don't plan a coup. They want to save their queen and save their country from the danger. It won't matter, though, if I denounced them. They're no foreign prince to be diplomatic with. They'd be just as dead as if they planned a coup.<br>But I can't let them start a war, he decided in his head. General Berg might talk about preventing tragedy, but this war will bring it all. I can't treat it as nothing only because it'll be Weseltonian men, women and children who'll suffer. We don't even know if there's any plan made to attack as. Only conspiracy's fears. They will act on this fears and they'll attack, and it will become self-fulfilling prophecy, because if Weselton will be attacked, Isles will feel endangered as well, and then they will aid Weselton. To save Arendelle, Queen will have no choice but to act… Kai nearly vomited, thinking of all such a combat would bring. Not only death in battle, but death in cold, disease and starvation. Men and children frozen to death. Entire rivers and seas turned into ice in which people and ships would be trapped to die slowly. Field ravaged, cities leveled by man and force of nature. No escape, only death, death, death and dead bodies everywhere.  
>I can't let the war happen, he told himself. I must stop the war. But… how? I can't send them to death. But I must send them to death. But I mustn't kill the men who want to protect my country. But I must protect my country.<br>What should I do?  
>"Sorry to interrupt your brooding", he suddenly heard next to him, "but I've got to talk to you."<br>He nearly jumped, and Spot stopped, nearly sending him over horse's neck. When he regained his grip, he turned to see Christian, looking at him with obvious worry.  
>"Ah.. sorry. You startled me."<br>"I noticed. Need a help?"  
>Sorry, but you can't help me with that, Kai though unhappily. Christian must be out of the loop, he decided, suddenly realizing that all those disappearing muskets must have something to do with Berg's plan. Perhaps they wanted to talk to him when I'll be able to convince him…<br>"No, thanks. I'm doing well on my own. What is it?"  
>"Powder supplies, this time. I've got a helluva missing from the store."<br>"What?", Kai asked dazedly. Disappearing powder. This must be part of the plan too. They didn't turn Christian for sure. But… they need quartermaster. Mikkeli would be half as effective if he knew what they wanted.  
>"Powder. We're lacking in… Kai, are you sure you're alright? Cause you look seriously ill to me."<br>"Yes", he lied. "I'm fine. Absolutely fine."  
>They rode into empty space behind the tents, between them and the mountain. Sudden thought struck Kai, a half-remembered saying of his first commander.<br>_You might bitch about Supplies, Madsen, but no army will go anywhere without food or weapons. _  
>Armies won't move without food. Armies won't move without clothing, without powder, without muskets, without crossbows, swords, bolts, ropes, tents, horses, grain and thousand other things that made quartermasters absolutely vital.<br>"Yeah. Sorry, but you're terrible actor.", said Christian.  
>Kai ignored him for the moment when it downed on him. That's it! That's how I can do it! If I manage to explain everything to Christian, we'll stop the army for good. They won't be able to invade!<br>He blinked a few times. Christian and his reindeer looked at him worriedly.  
>"So…?", Christian cued. Kai blinked and smiled slightly.<br>"Yes. Sorry. It's just… I have to tell you about something. It's important."  
>Christian looked around.<br>"Well, it's not like anybody's listening right now, or so I think. What is it?"  
>"You see…"<br>"Well, I knew it."  
>Both men turned sharply when the third had spoken. Kai's jaw dropped when he saw who came from behind the closest tent.<br>"Grady?", he asked incredulously. "What…?"  
>Old sergeant glared at him.<br>"General and I were both wary of you, you know. You're nobility, sir. Full of all this ideas, 'forever for the queen' and whatnot. And mountain boy here", he nodded at Christian, who just looked at him as if trying to put together a puzzle, "is right. You're a terrible actor, sir. Didn't really fool general, you know?"  
>Kai could just stare as Grady spoke. Sergeant turned to Christian.<br>"And you, boy? Please. Anybody could see through that disguise."  
>And he could only stare as he produced a loaded crossbow from behind his back and raised it to point at Kai.<br>"I'm sorry, sir. But that's how it is."  
>And he could only stare as soldier's finger started to push the trigger…<br>Suddenly he saw a sharp movement to the side and Spot jolted, throwing his rider out of the saddle. Kai hit the ground, hearing the whizz of a bolt close to him, gasping for air and seeing Christian looking at him furiously.  
>"Who's the <em>soldier<em> here?!", he asked, then kicked his reindeer. Animal jumped to Grady, who thrown away now-useless crossbow and grabbed a sword. Reindeer was smart and stopped at its heels before it's head could be cut in half, nearly sending Mikkeli off. Christian held and reindeer moved away from Grady, who was ready to put it and it's rider down. Mikkeli shouted at it and reindeer jumped forward, striking with its horns, Grady jumped to the side and caught Mikkeli by his leg. Christian squealed when Grady pulled down, and landed on the ground, reindeer tried to turn to face Grady, who raised the sword for deadly strike…  
>At that moment Kai, who already stood up and drew his sword, moved in and blocked the strike. He tried to attack, but Grady parried and delivered a kick, which Kai avoided, stepping to the side… Straight on the leg of Christian, who was quickly moving back. Surprised, Kai lost his balance and Grady's sword stroke true, cutting at his arm. Kai shrieked and attacked with right hand, trying to stop Grady's offensive, out of balance, his arm slowly numbing. They exchanged attack and parry and Kai noticed an opening, which he used instantly, piercing Grady's side. Soldier hissed, instinctively trying to hold his arm. Kai kicked him and stroke his wrist, cutting it and making him drop the sword. Grady moved back quickly and took his crossbow off the ground, then used it to block Kai's next strike. He then jumped to the side and tried to hit him with it, Kai turned quickly, parried, Grady's next kick hit his knee, Kai shrieked again, tried to attack, soldier moved away, major tried to stab him under the crossbow… He saw stars when massive piece of wood hit between his eyes. He moved back a couple of steps, dazed, and Grady used it instantly, moving forward, striking sword out of his hands…<br>Suddenly Grady disappeared, replaced by furry flank of reindeer. Animal charged at him with its head low and huge horns thrown Grady on the side of a tent. He was unconscious when he hit the material and slid down on the snow.

Kai stepped forward and back, blinking to chase away the mist that covered his eyes and trying not to hear bells that seemed to ring in his head. Still blinking, he looked at Svivan, who looked warily at unconscious Grady. On it sat Mikkeli.  
>"What the hell was that about?", asked quartermaster.<br>"What did he mean?", asked Kai at the same time.  
>Christian jumped off Svivan and approached Kai, kicking the sword and crossbow to the side. Madsen felt like falling to the ground. As a matter of fact, his knees gave up under him, but Christian managed to catch him before rest of Kai's body followed them.<br>Mikkeli looked at the wound on his arm and winced.  
>"Ouch. That doesn't look…"<br>He didn't finish. A loud rumble drowned his voice and both men look up, at the North Mountain.  
>The mountain slope seemed to be approaching them.<br>"Oh, dear…", said Kai.  
>"No avalanches?!", shouted Christian, kicking the reindeer to run and pulling Kai behind him, taking his own advice. Kai knew, though, that it's hopeless. He heard Spot's panicked scream…<p>

Moments later the snow was on top of them.


	8. Chapter 8: Burial in snow

_Slope of North Mountain_  
>He woke up to darkness and cold, enveloping him, attacking him from every side. He tried to take a breath, but there was water in his throat and he started to cough uncontrollably, trying to get some air. At last he inhaled sharply, and then started to cough again when ice cold air seemed to have frozen his lungs.<br>Finally he managed to calm down a bit, breathing through his nose with a whizzing sound. It was deadly cold and he was all shaking. He tried to move his hands, thanking the almighty that he had his gloves on. He couldn't see.  
>Did I go blind?<br>Finally he managed to free them and rise them. He tried to touch his face and nearly punched himself in the eye. He took a breath and closed his eyes again, even though it made no difference. He tried to say something, but couldn't hear his own voice.  
>It took some time before he managed to shove the snow away from his head, mostly because he was shaking too much to do it effectively. He then examined the place he was in. There was sound of snow slowly falling, bit by bit, to his left. He could touch the ceiling maybe a hand over his face. To the right…<br>He felt something familiar under his glove. He moved his hand forward until he touched the snow, then back until he touched animal's nose.  
>"Spot?", he whispered. "Spot…"<br>Horse didn't respond. Kai took one of his gloves off and touched Spot again. Animal was ice cold.  
>"Spot…", he repeated, putting the gloves back on and patting the horse on its mouth.<br>He bit his lip, trying not to cry. Why am I crying?, he asked himself dryly. It was just an annoying beast.  
>And yet he couldn't stop the tears. He tried to wipe them quickly, before they could freeze on his face.<p>

He didn't know how long did he lie like this, staring into darkness, before he realized that the sounds of the falling snow are repetitive… and definitely man-made.  
>"Hello!", he called, then cleared his throat. "Anybody there?"<br>The sound stopped and after a moment he heard muffled answer.  
>"Kai? You there!"<br>"Oh Almighty thank you Christian yes it's me oh my god we're still alive…", he blurted out, then took a deep breath.  
>"What happened?", he asked, feeling slightly more composed. Sounds resumed.<br>"Avalanche fell. Buried us. We're lucky to be alive."  
>"Yes… how are we alive?"<br>"Well, we must've been caught between some big pieces of ice or compressed snow. Instead of breaking and burying us… I guess they locked against each other or something."  
>"Lucky us?"<br>"I think. At least we have some chance."  
>"Yes. Right. What are you doing?"<br>"Trying to dig myself - us, now - out of the snow."  
>"Oh, that's good."<br>"Don't be such an optimist. We might just as well be buried under three or more meters of it, and I'm not working very quickly."  
>Kai cursed silently.<br>For a moment, the only sound was Mikkeli digging in the ice. Finally, Kai couldn't stand the silence.  
>"Spot's dead.", he said.<br>"Oh…" The silence fell again. "I'm sorry."  
>"He was kind of a bastard, I think."<br>"Yeah, I've noticed."  
>"Is it stupid that I miss him?"<br>"Probably not. I miss Sven." Christian started to work again.  
>"Who?"<br>"Ehm, reindeer."  
>"Oh. Yes. You think he got away?"<br>"I hope so."  
>"Why didn't you try to escape on his back?"<br>"Because then he wouldn't manage it for sure. This way at least one of us escaped."  
>Well, that's a man who love his steed, thought Kai, patting Spot gently. A loose thought hit his mind.<br>"Hey, Christian? Why did Grady said that anybody could see through that disguise?"  
>"Probably because Berg saw through mine."<br>"Wha…?" Suddenly he connected the voice with the figure. He imagined Mikkeli's face without mustache, and with browner hair.  
>"Ah, I got it! You're Kristoff Bjorgman, right? Prince Anna's…" He couldn't find a word.<br>"Boyfriend, yeah! Finally! Can I _please _shave that mustache now?"  
>"Yes, sure. I'll even borrow you my razor if you manage to dig us out of here."<br>"I told you not to count on it."  
>"So think of it as a motivator."<br>He could imaging Christian… Kristoff shrugging.  
>"I just might. Why don't you come and help me?"<br>"I'd like to… but…"  
>"What is it?"<br>"I can't feel my legs."  
>A long silence fell.<p>

_Out of the avalanche  
><em> Major Andreas Andersen looked at the catastrophe with shock. Next to him, general's reaction had to be the same, even though Berg didn't show it.

Soldiers had just managed to get themselves together and, accompanied by orders of their officers and sergeants, started to walk into the field of snow and destruction, probing it with blunt end of their pikes. Some, buried shallowly, managed to dig themselves out. Some others were pulled out by their colleagues and tended to by army's doctors.  
>But many of them - too many - were still buried. Andersen grew up in the footsteps of North Mountain. He knew their chances of survival.<br>Low. Dreadfully low.  
>He tried not to think about it, about all his colleagues and friends trapped, probably dead, under the layers of snow. His own battalion was safe, but it was no time for emotions.<p>

Next to him general shook his head.  
>"I did <em>not <em>want this exercises to turn out this practical.", he said.  
>Andreas just nodded, not sure, what to say. General cursed.<br>"It's going to take days before we manage to find them."  
>"Not many days, sir.", Andreas said in hollow voice. "After four it will make no sense to search further. They'll all be dead by then."<br>"Well. You're right about that."  
>He turned to look at him.<br>"Sadly, major, I don't have any idea how else to help them."  
>Andreas was just about to say that he doesn't either when he actually came up with one.<br>"Queen Elsa, sir! She can control snow and ice, she could just thaw it!"  
>General's eyes lighted up.<br>"Yes, she could! Great idea!" He patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, boy, here's the job for you. Take three our best horses and run to Arendelle as if wolves were chasing you. You'll find a way?"  
>"It will be hard to miss it, sir, after our passing."<br>"Great. Take some provisions and go, boy! There's no time!"  
>Andreas saluted and ran to the stables.<p>

_Under the snow  
><em>"How's it going?", asked Kristoff after a long break.  
>"I… I think my luck didn't extend to my legs. They're buried under the ice."<br>"You can't move them?"  
>"If I could, I wouldn't feel it."<br>He heard mountaineer curse.  
>"Try to dig them out, then."<br>"A… alright."  
>Kai tried to bend himself somehow so that his hands could reach his legs. Finally, he touched the wall of snow just under his waist and started to scrape it. Soon his back started to hurt.<br>For some time, there were only the sounds of two pairs of hands working to break the snow. Kai felt ice cold water reaching his fingers through the gloves. For a contrast, his back seemed to burn with fire, and his head hit the snowy ceiling almost every second.  
>He cursed and lied back on the snow.<br>"You did this?"  
>"No. I don't think I managed to do anything, my head will break any moment now, my back hurts as hell and can barely reach my legs."<br>"So stop whining and dig yourself place to sit first.", said Kristoff dryly.  
>Kai wanted to argue, but couldn't, so he resumed his work, this time over his head.<p>

It took time, but finally he could bend a bit more. He attacked the snow at his legs furiously, accompanied by steady sound of Kristoff's attempts to reach the surface.  
>"How do you think, what caused the avalanche?"<br>"Well, that's obvious. If you make loud sound, snow will move. You've been training with muskets since midmorning."  
>"Sure, but why now? We've been shooting for days now!"<br>"Yes, and the snow moved with every shot. Finally it passed the point after which it just fell altogether."  
>"But… but engineers said there's no risk of avalanche."<br>"Then they've been wrong, as you can see."  
>Kai couldn't believe it. A few dozen engineers all declared that it's safe. General Berg believed it to be safe. Andreas told them it's safe when he was scaring them with tales from his hometown the day before. How could they all be wrong?<br>"Missing powder", he realized suddenly. "The one you said was stolen. They put the powder up there and detonated it to make the avalanche."  
>"What? What 'they'?"<br>Oh, right. Kai haven't told Kristoff anything about it yet.  
>"General Berg and few other officers. They want to start war with Weselton."<br>"What?!"  
>Kai explained to him all he learned from Berg. After he finished, he heard Kristoff whistle.<br>"Oh my. That's bad."  
>"Yes, it is."<br>"I kind of double hope we'll survive this. Somebody must tell Elsa about it."  
>"Exactly. You think you'll make it?"<br>"I'll definitely try. But I've told you not to have much hope for it. Uhm, Kai?"  
>"What is it?"<br>"Why would they kill their own man?"  
>Kai considered this for a moment, remembering the layout of the camp.<br>"Sub-camps of all battalions whose commanders are on Berg's scheme are as far from the avalanche as possible." He froze, realizing what he just said.  
>"They did it on purpose. Berg actually killed his own man."<br>"Yes."  
>"What… what a…"<br>For a moment, he was just shaking. How could he…? How could anybody do something like that? How could I think about trying to hide what he's doing? He doesn't deserve it. He just doesn't deserve it.  
>"What a monster.", he finally said.<br>"Can't disagree with you on that.", answered Kristoff. "But, Kai…"  
>"Yes?"<br>"I suggest you save air. We don't have much of it around here."

_Weselton  
><em> An army marching out was not a triumphant view. It was grim, with all the weapons being carried, thousands of soldiers in red-and-black uniforms marching at one pace, lowered head of horses marching next to them and countless carts following it all. Altogether, it looked like a huge serpent, slowly consuming the landscape as it moved out.  
>Eric watched it from the castle window, his mood grim as well. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and turned to see Margaret.<br>"Maybe it will end with nothing.", she told him, smiling slightly. "Maybe they'll just come there, curse us for ordering them to freeze in the mountains, and come back down here."  
>He shook his head.<br>"I doubt it. With two armies in one place, one of them convinced we don't know about it and the other nervous about the first one? One accident and there will be shooting on both sides."  
>And then we'll have war, he thought, turning back to the marching army. It made an audible, creepy sound. Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter… it wasn't stopping for over two hours now.<br>He read all he could get his hands on about the Great Freeze and he was convinced about one thing: they didn't want to wage war with queen Elsa of Arendelle. It would end quickly, bloody and with snow that would make Great Freeze look like mild autumn.  
>And yet, it seemed like there was no point in trying to avert it. How do you stop a serpent this huge? Eric just couldn't.<br>"Yes. We'll have war.", he said silently. Even his wife's embrace couldn't help his mood.  
>Did you have anything to do with it, honey?, he asked her in his mind. What was in this message you have sent here?<p>

_Under the snow  
><em> Kai just wanted to die already and end this.  
>It was hopeless struggle. He was sure he didn't dig even through the inch of snow. He couldn't feel the tips of his fingers and he was all soaked and freezing. Apart for occasional acknowledgment that he's still there, he didn't speak, and with every word his voice was quieter and more hoarse, threatening to die altogether.<br>It's hopeless, he thought.  
>And yet he still dug, stupid body refusing to acknowledge the obvious.<p>

"You there?", asked Kristoff. Kai coughed a few times.  
>"Yeah. There. Alive.", he said and fell silent again.<br>He considered taking off the gloves and trying to dig with his fingers. But it was stupid. They'd just freeze quicker. But there's no difference, he decided after a moment. Right now they're in the frozen glove. Air or ice, both are cold just the same.  
>He took the gloves off and thrown them on the ground, then reached to the snow again. He banged something much colder and solid than snow.<br>Almighty, please. Let it not be a rock. Please, let it not turn out I've been hitting the rock all that time…  
>He moved his numb fingers up and down before he realized what it is.<br>"Kristoff, I…" He coughed a few times before managing to speak audibly. "I found a sword. Mine or Grady's. It's here, anyway. A sword."  
>"Oh? You think you could use it as a shovel?", Kristoff asked.<br>"Uhm, I don't know…"  
>He tried to free it. It took him a few times and he thought he felt himself cutting his fingers, but finally he managed to get it and rip it out of the snow. He grabbed it by the hilt and pulled.<br>"I got it!", he exclaimed.  
>"Great. When you'll have your legs free, pass it to me, would you?"<br>"Sure", he said and started to cut the snow by his legs.

He wasn't sure how long did it take. By the end, it was just mechanical, repetitive scheme. Stab, shove, shove, stab, shove, shove, stab, shove, shove… He felt as if he was spinning, for some reason.  
>He heard the sound of snow being moved somewhere before him, by his legs. He caused some slide? What? What happened?<br>My legs, he realized suddenly. I did it. I freed my legs. They can move.  
>"I did it!", he screamed. "I did it, I can move my legs, I did it!"<br>He took a few deep breaths and exclaimed:  
>"I made it!"<br>"Great!", he heard Kristoff to his left… or was it right? He suddenly felt so weak, like a deflated balloon.  
>"Now, could you crawl to me?", he heard Kristoff.<br>"No… sorry… not strong enough…"  
>"So at least pass me the sword."<br>"Alright."  
>He tried to. He tried to rise his hand and do it, but something still stood in his way. Finally he just pushed it in the direction he thought Kristoff's voice came from.<br>Darkness became deeper.

_En route to Arendelle  
><em> Andersen kicked the horse to hurry and animal sped up, two others following it quickly. He thrown away the paper package of his small dinner, not caring to stop to put it back in his bag. He had no time. He had to hurry.  
>It was deep night already, but he had no intention to sleep. With enough spare horses, it was possible to get to Arendelle in two days. Man could go for two days without sleep alright.<p>

But horse couldn't.  
>Suddenly Andreas felt himself thrown forward, catapulted out of the saddle over the horse's neck. He heard a sharp crack as his ankle was sprained, and hit the ground with enough force to push the air out of his lungs.<br>He lied on the ground for few long breaths, then turned to see what happened.  
>His horse was on the ground as well. He must've stepped on something, maybe some hole, and now his left front leg looked broken. Andreas cursed and crawled to the scared animal, then patted it on the neck.<br>"It's okay, buddy", he told him. "All is fine, boy. Just wait here for me, okay? I'll go to the capital and take with me someone to help you."  
>He unfastened the horse's saddle, then stood up and approached the remaining two, limping.<p>

A minute later, he was back on his way.

_Under the snow  
><em>Kai woke up to a gush of hot air on his face. Hot, wet and incredibly stinking air. He inhaled and regretted that.  
>"What the…?"<br>"Hey, you're back!", he heard the voice just in front of him.  
>"Kristoff? What the hell are you doing?", he asked, confused.<br>"Trying to warm you up. That's what Sven does to me when I'm freezing."  
>"I could live without that… particular bit of trivia.", Kai managed to say. He looked around, but it was still darkness around him. The air seemed a bit… fresher? Especially after experiencing Kristoff's breath. But he was sure his legs were free, and he started to shake when he felt the cold again.<br>"What… where are we?"  
>"Still in the same place I was.", said Kristoff and Kai realized that mountaineer must be holding him, trying to pass some body heat so that Kai wouldn't freeze to death. "I tried to dig with a sword further and I seemed to have finally broken through the ice. So I came back and dug you out - there was a huge piece of ice hanging between us - and tried to widen the hole I've made."<br>"But we're still not outside."  
>"Nope. It turns out I just dug to another air pocket. The moment I tried to climb on it, its floor fell on our heads."<br>Kai cursed.  
>"Yeah, exactly.", said Kristoff. "I'm sorry. I tried to keep on digging up, but I'm exhausted. I can't even stand more higher than on all fours, and I dug as much as I could reach with a sword."<br>Kai took a deep breath. So that's it. It's over.

No. It can't be, he told himself.  
>"No.", he repeated out loud. "It's not over."<br>"Maybe. And how are you going to ensure it?"  
>"I'll start with… get off me, would you?"<br>He felt even colder after that. He managed to crouch, even though his legs were shaking from both cold and exhaustion.  
>"Give me the sword and rest. We'll take turns."<br>"Okay."  
>He felt the sword with his hands, grabbed it and crawled up to the edge of their air pocket. Thrusting his fingers in the snow, he managed to stand on two feet. With sword in the other hand, he started to stab the ceiling furiously.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: Fine art of ice and plotting

_Arendelle  
><em> It is a general consensus that when a soldier gallops into the capital city, nearly falling from a single horse, exhausted and half-dead from lack of sleep, it means bad news, in the vein of catastrophe or war. Ever since the Great Freeze and diplomatic chaos that followed, people have been anticipating the latter. When the aforementioned event happened in the late afternoon, then, people made way for major Andersen quickly. Some paled.  
>Queen Elsa was in the middle of a meeting with elderly Royal Architect when she looked out of the window and noticed the everyday crowds parting like sea in ancient legends before the single mounted soldier. She got outside just before Andersen galloped into the castle courtyard and stopped the horse sharply. He was apparently exhausted enough for that movement to throw him off the horse, because Elsa had barely managed to conjure a heap of snow for him to fall and feint into.<p>

Four hours later the healer passed the news that, first, major would live and, second, bad news were about catastrophe, not war. When public, waiting in the quickly falling night for the news, learned about it, majority had left with relief (sometimes exclaimed rather loudly) and minority with relief mixed with guilt that they were relieved at the news of someone else's suffering.  
>Major Andersen was half-sitting, half-lying in the bed across the fireplace, with a mug of hot tea warming his hands, and dozens of blankets covering him entirely. He wasn't really used to being pampered, but after a mad, half-remembered, frantic ride cross-country, it was oddly comfortable to just let go of any matter and leave it to be somebody else's problem. He made his report to Her Majesty, he told her what's the problem, and now he was about to finish his tea and go to sleep.<br>Only apparently he wasn't, because Her Majesty opened the door and wandered in with some clear intent in mind. Andreas tried to put down the mug, disentangle himself from the blankets, stand up, bow and salute, all at the same time, which, predictably, ended up as a convoluted mess. Her Majesty pretended not to notice, to Andreas' relief.  
>"Major, I'm deeply sorry to drag you out of your bed just as you were about to take a well-earned rest. However, I'm afraid general Berg left only very vague information as to the location of maneuvers. I'm afraid, then, that I need somebody to show me the way."<br>Andreas finally managed to untangle himself and stand on two feet, trying not to gawk at the Queen.  
>"Uhm, yes, Your Majesty. I mean… I'm sorry, Your Majesty. You alone?"<br>"Yes. It will be much faster, and I believe I've proven I can manage myself out of the city."  
>Well, yes, she definitely did. Andreas bowed then.<br>"As you wish, Your Majesty."  
>They collected two bags from a servant who shot a worried look to the Queen, and slightly less worried one to Andreas. Major barely noticed, wondering whether he'll manage to stay on the horse. This proved to be entirely different problem, though.<br>In the courtyard there were two creatures standing, creatures unlike anything Andreas had seen before. They were… vaguely horselike in their appearance in that they had four legs, body and a head with pair of hailstones pretending to be eyes. Apart from that, they seemed to be made entirely of snow, even though the sole fact they were standing, and the saddles and harnesses on them, disproved it. They were even provided with their own little clouds over them to keep them from melting.  
>"They will be faster than horses, and they won't tire.", Her Majesty stated, walking up to one of them. "Not to mention that I can rebuild them if they crash."<br>"O-of course, Your Majesty.", said Andreas, approaching one. It didn't move until he did it and he jumped slightly when it turned its mouthless head to face him. Apart from that, it did nothing. No panting, no tail waving, no digging in the snow with a hoof. It remained motionless when he was getting on it and moved only slightly when it seemed he was about to fall, preventing him from it. It would be a good steed for Kai, Andreas thought a bit bitterly, but it's absolutely creepy for anybody who knows horse riding. And there was snow raining from the mini-cloud on his head. He put a hood on.  
>He turned to see Her Majesty exchanging goodbyes with clearly worried girl that must've been princess Anna and then the Queen saddled up and turned to him.<br>"Lead the way, major."  
>Andreas obliged, feeling as if he was sitting on a chair, not quasi-living creature.<p>

As it turned out, the journey with Her Majesty proven to be amazingly brief experience.

Instead of crossing or finding their way around the rivers and streams, they just stepped on them and water froze under snow horses' hooves. Their legs seemed to shorten and lengthen whenever it was necessary. If there was a chasm to cross or steep hill to climb, bridges of ice grown before them, only to melt after they passed. They never stopped, they never slipped or stumbled, and they were traveling with speed that made Andreas clutch to snow horse's neck as strongly as he could manage. He tried to navigate Her Majesty for the first hour or so, but seeing how they could pass any obstacle and how comfortable the Queen seemed on her snow horse (especially compared to him), he just pointed in general direction and followed her, occasionally shouting for small corrections of their course.  
>At one moment he awoke atop the still-running snow horse and realized that he had had to fall asleep at some point of the journey, somehow. He was practically glued to the back of the creature with ice and after he looked to the side and noticed the impossible speed they were running at, he decided against breaking the hold.<p>

To his even greater amazement, they arrived at the camp just as the sun started to rise, on the third day after he left it. We must've broken some record, he thought dazedly, trying to see the guards at camp entrance through the daybreak gloom.  
>At first, the same gloom prevented those guards from recognizing who arrived. The snow horses, however, as well as the diadem and famous blue dress of Her Majesty were the telltale signs and so they were quickly let inside.<br>Breaking the ice holding him, Andreas looked around from atop the creature. Despite the early hour, the camp was still buzzing with activity. The avalanche occupying majority of the terrain looked as if a thousand moles dug in it, and the soldiers were coming back and forth, still probing the snow with pikes and carrying the bodies.  
>Bodies themselves were lied down in rows on the other side. They were on the outside and their faces were covered, making it clear that those were the bodies of the dead.<br>There were sickeningly many of them.

Getting off the snow horse, Andreas felt his heart sink. Surely it had to be in vain. They all had to be dead by now.  
>"Sir?", he heard to the side and turned to see young private, looking at the snow horse with obvious trepidation. "What to do with this… uhm, this…"<br>"Just leave it be.", he told him. "It won't go anywhere."  
>He smiled encouragingly to the youngster, who took it as an excuse to get as far away from creatures as possible, and ran to catch up with the Queen, who had already found general Berg.<br>"…seventy alive. That's about it, Your Majesty.", finished the general and noticed Andreas, who snapped a salute. "At ease, major. You seem to be in great need of sleep."  
>"I manage, sir.", he answered. The Queen nodded and said:<br>"Then let's waste no time. I'd rather you moved your people away from the avalanche, just in case."  
>General agreed and called to the man. They quickly got off the deep snow, noticing the queen and saluting or bowing to her, then moved back to watch the show.<p>

Her Majesty turned to the avalanche and both officers stepped back a bit when she raised her hands.

_Under the snow  
><em> Kai wasn't really sure what was happening.  
>He saw and felt nothing. It was a bit hard to breathe and he was sleepy. He decided to close his eyes and… No, he couldn't. He snapped them open.<br>He didn't remember who's turn was it when he decided to take a rest. He remembered Kristoff working and he remembered himself working and he remembered Christian working and they all had swords and there was something wrong with that memory. He wasn't sure, though.  
>He decided to close his eyes again. For some time already it had felt as if he was only eyes, staring into the darkness. There was no point in that. He was tired. He should take some sleep. It was no difference, after all. He felt nothing either way.<p>

Suddenly, he heard something through the mist that seemed to envelop him. Mildly curious, he opened his eyes…  
>…he covered his face and curled up when he was blinded by light.<p>

_Out of the avalanche  
><em> The mass "aaah" could be heard in the nigh-silence as Her Majesty worked her magic.

The snow flashed blue and slowly, by trickles, started to rise up as if gravity decided to work upwards this day. It turned into hazy smoke as it went and then disappeared into nothing, blown away by wind. All the time, flashes of blue and green appeared on the surface of snow in a complicated pattern of snowflakes, the centers of which were the points snow rose from. The spectacle was speeding up and gaining power and in moments trickles turned into currents, currents into rivers and then they all connected, as if the entire mountain decided to rise and fly.  
>Then, with a soft gush of wind, they all seemed to be gone. People were "aahing" and "oohing" for some more time. Then they looked down and finished with much less awed words as the snow gave way for much more grim picture.<br>There were bodies everywhere. Crashed, mangled, squashed and red with deep-frozen blood. Dead bodies. Hundreds of dead bodies, just lying there, motionless, frozen, dead, dead, very much dead and beyond saving.  
>Somewhere far away, Andreas heard the general giving the instructions to search for those who might still be alive. Personally, Andersen had no hopes. I was right, he realized. This was all in vain. They're all dead by now.<br>Then he saw a slight movement, and the carrot red of Kai's hair.

He didn't know how did he find himself near him, but there he was, kneeling just next to Kai, checking his pulse and putting gloveless hand by his mouth, hoping - nearly praying - that the movement wasn't just his own delusion.  
>But no. Kai was alive, and so was Mikkeli, lying next to him and blinking slowly.<p>

_Camp East, by Arendelle  
><em> General Kristiani finished his preparations rather quickly. Then he turned to look at his aide, Carsten.  
>"Is everything ready?", he asked. "In all departments?"<br>"So it seems.", answered the weathered lieutenant, producing a notebook from somewhere. Kristiani flinched when he saw it.  
>"No problem, sir. I kinda doubt anybody who'd look at it would recognize or get the thieves' cant."<br>"Apart from the thieves.", noticed the general an umpteenth time. Carsten didn't answer, instead leafing through the notebook.  
>"Well, all of the out-of-the-loops are out of the plan and scheduled to stay. We haven't missed anybody, I think. We're pretty sure who's a snitch in what's left and moved 'em to the outies as well. Equip' seems a'right t'me, and there's a pretty nice side effect of our venture."<br>"Oh?"  
>"Rumor has it that HM lied about the 'strophe and it's a war we have, and that's why we make no fuss."<br>"Ah, that's nice.", Kristiani agreed. "She can hardly disagree with that unless she wants to appear either weak or a liar."  
>"Guessed my mind, sir." Carsten closed his notebook. "'though I still say you overestimate her, sir."<br>"I'd rather over- than underestimate her.", Kristiani told him. "And I'd _much _rather she understood we do this for her own good."  
>"Aye, sir.", Carsten shrugged with his usual lack of respect for high charges. Kristiani didn't mind that - he was damn good aide, after all. "So, we can move out anytime you wish, sir."<br>"Great. I wish it to be now."  
>Carsten saluted and run off to pass general's orders. It didn't take long and soon the Second Corps of Royal Army of Arendelle moved out of Camp East, leaving behind only a couple of battalions, which actually had no clue what's going on.<p>

_General Berg's training camp  
><em> Somehow, against all odds, seven people were found to be still alive under the avalanche. True, one of them died in the night after Her Majesty cleared the avalanche, and another had to have one of his legs, taken by frostbite, amputated, but the fact that five of them survived apparently only temporarily disabled was… well, amazing.  
>Kai was lying in the darkened tent, covering his eyes with an arm. He felt impossible weight of blankets on top of him and the fire warming his feat quite pleasantly. His head hurt, though, and he felt the world spinning around him - he was quite sure he heard the healer saying something about having too much air after having too few of it. He was slowly falling asleep.<br>He heard the tent flap open and the sound of huge boots creaking on the snow. After a moment his mind recognized the steps he had learned to watch for in the last years. It was general Berg.  
>Kai felt that the proper reaction would be to freeze, but the tired body wasn't up to any physical feats yet. He pretended to be sleeping, then. He was nearly asleep anyway, so it was easy.<br>He heard the general stand by him and then he must've crouched, for when he spoke, his voice seemed to be at the same level as Kai's head.  
>"Kai, boy…", general started. "I'm sorry it had to end up like this. I didn't want it to end like this at all, but you couldn't act if your life depended on it. You <em>can't <em>act if your life depends on it."  
>Kai mentally agreed with the general, wondering if Berg had already seen through his "I'm sleeping" act.<br>"It wouldn't matter, really, whether you told anybody about it or not. The avalanche was scheduled for the same day and I'd find something for you to do while Her Majesty was working. But… the others were stressed and they wanted me to act and make sure nothing happened. So there you are."  
>Am I supposed to believe the man who talks about avalanche that killed thousands as a minor thing?, Kai asked himself. He didn't think so, but he didn't react either, busily pretending to sleep and trying to stay awake.<br>"I know you won't believe me, Kai, but I didn't want to kill you. I didn't suspect in my wildest imaginations that you'd go right to the place the avalanche was about to hit. I wanted to send you for help, like I sent Andersen, and then with the troops that survived, back to the capital. You'd be out of all this when it started. And if we failed, at least you wouldn't be hanged alongside us."  
>He does care, Kai thought incredulously. He's a monster and he cares. It was hard for Kai to wrap his mind around it.<br>"Well, either way, you're out of this now. So… yeah. I just wanted to tell you that you might not like it or believe it, but I'm doing all this for my country and for my Queen."  
>He heard the general standing up and walking to the tent's exit. He stopped there for a moment.<br>"Fare well, Kai. And note please that pretending to be asleep while trying _not_ to fall asleep is kind of pointless."  
>So he did see through, Kai noted with chagrin as Berg left the tent.<p>

Soon another thought crossed his mind. I should tell the Queen, he decided. Or Kristoff. Or Andersen. Anybody. I should tell somebody what are Berg's plans before Her Majesty leaves the camp.  
>Too weak to actually call for somebody - and to afraid that general's man might come with something to strangle him - he tried to stay awake and wait for someone to come and hear him.<p>

When the healer came in, though, Kai had been sleeping deeply for over an hour already.

_City of Arendelle  
><em>Elsa decided to return on the snow horse to the capital by herself, without slowly moving burden that would be the train of ill and injured, coming by normal means with the rest of the army. It was a good choice, she decided, holding the horse's snowy mane while the landscape was blurring to lines around her. She felt free, much more free than for the last three months spend in the capital. She actually stopped by some brook to rest and just relax in the silence of nature and perpetual snow. If not for her ingrained sense of royal duty, she'd probably stay there until the evening. Nobody would expect her to be back so quickly.  
>Of course, she was her father's daughter, and king Agdar would never abandon his duty to laze around and admire the sights. So as the midday stroke, she stood up, had the dress clean itself, and got back on the snow horse, ordering him to speed to the Arendelle.<p>

Her satisfaction with the ride and herself wavered and disappeared when she slowed down and entered the city proper. The people on the streets greeted her with regular tilts of heads, sure - but their glanced seemed eerily similar to the ones they sent her when she returned after the Great Freeze. She felt a lump of panic shaping itself in the bottom of her stomach. Did I do something wrong? Broken something when thawing the avalanche? Send the city into yet another freeze? But no - around her, all seemed fine. Apart from the people. Was it something Anna has done? Or had an answer from king Friedrich finally arrived?  
>She felt something that must've been a cold shiver when she thought of the form such answer might had taken. Was the Navy of the Isles standing in the middle of Arendelle Bay? Or maybe the Weselton army crossed the mountains and was pushing towards the city right this moment? The repetitive warnings of generals Berg and Kristiani came to her mind and she ordered the snow horse to gallop, to get to the castle as quickly as possible.<p>

When she entered the courtyard, she met castle butler, Old Mister Kai. The man was clearly worried as well, but he didn't try to hide it from her.  
>"What happened, Mister Kai?", she asked, getting off the snow horse.<br>"It's about the leaving army, ma'am.", he said, looking around, even though they were alone in the courtyard. "People are saying you lied to them."  
>"What?", she asked, surprised. "I lied about what?"<br>"There being an avalanche, ma'am. People say there's war and you don't want to tell them."  
>Elsa started to walk quickly towards the castle entrance, with long-legged butler catching up with her with ease.<br>"Why would they say so?", she asked and then realized something he said earlier. "Wait. What army?"  
>The normally-unflappable butler actually stopped in surprise. Elsa turned and looked at him, noting the servants leaning out of various doors and windows to listen.<br>"Ma'am… general Kristiani's army."  
>"What about it?"<br>"You… Your Majesty, don't you know? They moved out just yesterday, leaving only few battalions behind, and they gave no reason for it. We thought you ordered them to."  
>Elsa just stared at him for a moment before regaining her composure. Asking "he did what?" would not help her now. Facts were facts: general Kristiani's army had left the capital, leaving her with forces that would be grossly insufficient to capture them. She briefly considered using ice, but she'd have to find them first and she was just as vulnerable to arrows and swords of rear watch's scouts as anybody else.<br>But she had to do something. Kristiani was obviously going to act on the ideas of war and conquest he talked about multiple times. What should she do, then? What did she have left? Olafsen's Third Corps and Simani's First were both on the other end of the country, and Berg's Fourth was decimated. General Madsen's Fifth was scattered on the coastal island and… did she really want to start a civil war?  
>"Believe me", she said, both to Old Kai and the eavesdropping servants, "I didn't give him any orders to move out and there's no war for them to fight."<br>Butler seemed to have calmed down and Elsa nodded.  
>"I want a full Royal Council meeting, including my heir apparent.", she stated, turning back and walking quickly though the corridor. "I want it to be clear for the people that I didn't lie and there is no war."<br>"Of course, ma'am." Seeing his Queen regaining her composure apparently did wonders to Old Kai's state of mind. "What to tell them about Second Corps?"  
>"Tell them Kristiani must've misinterpreted my orders." I hope it will end up like this, Elsa thought, although she didn't really believe this.<br>"I will, ma'am. We might have problems with finding princess Anna, though. She seems to be quite stressed by the avalanche. In all honesty, ma'am, I haven't seen her since yesterday evening."  
>"Oh?" Elsa looked at him, surprised. "Odd. I'd swear I can smell chocolate mousse in the making. Didn't that make her appear?"<br>"That was the point of making the mousse, ma'am, but the princess is still absent."  
>That was odd. Anna had to be really stressed by uncertainty of Kristoff's fate. I have to find her and tell her he's alright, Elsa decided and left Old Kai to collect all members of Royal Council.<p>

Elsa searched the entire castle, calling both Anna's name and that Kristoff was fine. She looked in all the rooms, the kitchen, storages, towers, cellars, unused dungeon, in the gardens and stables and, approaching despair, in all the wardrobes and under all the beds in the entire castle.  
>The facts were clear, though, as she was forced to admit while entering the Council room and finding Anna absent as well: her sister was missing.<br>I hope she just went to see Kristoff, Elsa thought gloomily.


	10. Chapter 10: Movement

_Northern Sea_  
>Anna shook her head and tried to open her eyes. It was awfully stuffy and hot. She felt as if she had her head in some bag. She finally managed to open her eyes and noticed the pattern of woven fabric just in front of her them. Ah, so that's why it's so hot in here. She had to be lying under her quilt. She tried to take it off her with her hands, but few things registered.<br>First, she wasn't lying in her bed - she was actually sitting, leaning on the wooden wall. Second, she didn't have her sleeping dress on. Third, everything seemed to swing left and right, as if… as if she was on a ship?  
>And fourth, her hands were tied behind her back.<p>

Oh, dear. Was she kidnapped?

"Did she wake up?", she heard the voice with the foreign accent to the left. She immediately started to pretend being asleep, even going as far as snoring loudly.  
>"Nah, you hear her.", answered another, much more bored voice. "Give it a rest, Shorty. What's the difference?"<br>"Dunno, maybe we should give her something to drink or eat?", the man called Shorty answered in irritated tone.  
>As a matter of fact, Anna would like to eat or drink something. All she could taste in her mouth was salt. Or saltwater. She heard the creaking of wood and flapping of sails she came to associate with port, ships and her parent's death. I'm on a ship, she realized clearly. Why am I on a ship? I must've been kidnapped. Why? And by who?<br>"If she'll be hungry or thirsty, she'll just start screaming like royalty.", said Bored.  
>Anna had no intention of announcing herself being awake, so she stayed silent, hoping to hear something.<br>"Alright.", said Shorty. "But don't blame me if cap'n will get all pissed off at us when she starts 'screaming like royalty'."  
>She finally recognized the accent as that of Confederates who arrived at Elsa's coronation. It weren't the same people, of course - especially as the Confederate envoy was a woman - but they sure were from the same country.<br>"He won't.", said Bored. "And if he will, I won't get in his way. You hungry?"  
>Yes, thought Anna.<br>"You're asking me or the princess?"  
>"You, idiot."<br>"Well, I am."  
>"So bring me a sandwich when you'll be going for food."<br>Shorty snorted and Anna heard the sounds of creaking wood, going silent.  
>Well, I didn't learn much from that, she noted with a sour smile.<p>

_East of North Mountain, Arendelle_  
>The camp was nearly invisible unless one came down into the valley. High in the mountains, the layer of snow was nearly two meters high. Doctrine of Arendelle advised that instead of digging passages, soldiers should dig tunnels in the snow. That's what they did. Their tents, the only parts of the camp sticking out of the snow, were painted white with splashes of light grey, masquerading them nearly perfectly. The only thing that could betray somebody's presence here were thin trickles of transparent smoke rising above the tents once a day, but even if the sight of them would bring somebody to the edge of the valley, that person would probably considered it some sort of optical illusion. Moreover, the Third Corps of Arendelle Army was primarily infantry and so there was no need for a corral for more than a few horses.<p>

A scout in white was making his way back to the camp, going downhill. He already exchanged greetings with two other scouts who were watching his approach to the camp, and now he was mostly dreaming about sitting in warm, heated tent and drinking a mug of tea. He'd been on the patrol for the last four days and he had enough of cold food and even colder cot. Of course, he'd have to report to the general first, and with information he brought, his dream was far removed in time.  
>He exchanged salutes with watchmen in the entrance to the tunnel leading into the camp. They recognized him and the man passed quickly. Inside, he took off the hood of his uniform and sped up a bit to make his imaginary heated tent and a tea a reality a bit faster. Tunnels were marked at the intersections with patterns of colorful paint on the ice, which didn't stop many soldiers from getting lost in barely lit passages. The man remembered the way quite clearly, though, and a few moments later he announced himself to the general.<p>

"So you're saying Weasels are moving in strength?", said general Jens Olafsen some time later and bit his lip.  
>"Yes, sir.", the scout agreed. "They divided their corps into two divisions and are moving by this… and this path."<br>The general nodded, tracing the paths shown by the scout with his finger. The ways Weseltonians had chosen for their army weren't much of a surprise - those two were the largest and widest passages through the Broken Back. They were still both on the Weasels' side of the mountains, leading to the valley known as the High Table (who invented that names, anyway?), which was regarded as the border between the two countries. Where exactly did the line go, was rather unclear - Arendelle cartographers considered High Table to be Arendelle territory entirely, while exact opposite was true for the Weseltonian mapmakers.  
>The most important thing, though, was the net of small passages, the Stone Streams, that connected High Table with the valley Arendellans were in right now. That was the way Weselton could invade Arendelle if they put their minds to it.<br>So, Olafsen though, what are the chances the Weasel's will stop on High Table? He agreed with Kristiani and Berg when they discussed the matter weeks ago. Not likely.  
>"Well, so Weasels finally made their move.", he said out loud and looked at the scout. "Is there anything else?"<br>"They don't have any field guns with them, sir. That's all."  
>"Well, that's nice. Good job, soldier. Dismissed."<br>Scout exited the tent and Olafsen looked at the rest of his commanders.  
>"You've heard the numbers, gentlemen. What are the chances of us stopping them, you think?"<br>"Depends, sir", said one of the colonels. "If we stay here, we're pretty much frozen fish with the numbers they brought. We can stop them in the Streams, though."  
>Others murmured agreement. Olafsen agreed as well. While both sides had one corps in this area, Weselton corps were nearly twice as huge as their Arendellan counterparts, making the ratio of soldiers 2:1 in favour of Weasels. On the other hand, in Stone Streams even tiny army could hold - and had held, in old times when Arendelle was part of Empire of the North - much greater forces. That's what Olafsen was counting for.<br>"Great, gentlemen. Anybody not in favor of this plan?"  
>They all shook their heads.<br>"Great.", general repeated. "So, let's get down to real planning. We've got four days before they enter High Table, and I want to use them the best we can."

It was already evening coming when the colonels left with plans in their hands and instructions started to be passed. Olafsen took a cup of tea from his valet - he had no aide - sat in his folded chair and started to worry.  
>The plan he, Bjorn and Rasmus made weeks ago presumed that the three corps would have time for an initial strike, a raid that would weaken Weselton infrastructure by the mountains, crippling their army's capabilities. Now, however, it seemed as if their worries were better founded than Olafsen imagined. The Weasel's attack wasn't some sort of dangerous possibility. It was very much an impending fact.<br>He looked at the calendar standing at the table. Rasmus and Berg should had made their moves by now and they were probably moving to the places they planned for themselves in the secret session the three generals had. The problem was, the plan was no longer valid and Olafsen could use reinforcements.  
>Dear, I hope they did start to move, he thought, putting out a sheet of paper. In many ways, their mission was harder than his - he was stationed in vicinity of this valley by his standing orders. The only thing he had to do was to invent "surprise training" and move the soldiers further up the mountains. His colonels and majors weren't even aware that there's some scheme going on.<br>Well, it didn't matter anyway. The schemers' worst fears were starting to prove true.

He finished writing the messages and rang a bell. Valet arrived moment later.  
>"I need two messengers", he told him. A while later he explained to two man which paths should they take and the pair left for the corral.<br>General Olafsen, meanwhile, continued to worry.

_Stone Streams  
><em> Corporal Vincent Meyers felt like cursing. He was well-bred sailor boy, scion of sailor families on both his mother's and father's side. What madness stroke him to apply to the Army? And what madness stroke the high command, for that matter?  
>Oh, sure. After the merchies' queen proven to have some magic powers - he didn't doubt them, he just considered the reports <em>way <em>overblown - everybody started to fret and fear as if she already stood by the gates of Port Royal. And then somebody came up with this madness. "Check out if Arendellans aren't planning something". Sure. As if merchies were planning anything other than business. Corona, as Vincent heard, approached it like any sane person should, just making the deal when they saw it.  
>And as if one madness wasn't enough, there was another, because why not? "Check out if they aren't planning something, but stay on our side of the border." What was that supposed to mean? How were they supposed to do the scouting if they couldn't go anywhere where they <em>could <em>scout? And what did one consider a border, anyway? Scout captain just shrugged and said his map shows the border to be on the _east _of Hight Table, by the Stone Streams, while general Potter seemed close to a seizure because merchies considered the border to be on the _west _of High Table. And how was he fretting about it!  
>Madness! Pure madness!<p>

With that thought, Meyers slid down a particularly icy path and stopped behind a large stone an old avalanche had had to bring here. Whatever high-ups said, neither him nor his comrades were fools. You wanted to have data? Well, sorry buddy. You had to cross the border.  
>He looked out over the stone and whistled voicelessly. Private Jones was right when he said those moulds looked suspicious. They were actually tents, buried nearly completely in snow. Now it was clear. There were dozens of men - if not hundreds - folding them, putting together, cleaning and doing all the things one associated with disassembling a camp.<br>All right. So one madness was justified. Merchies were sitting almost at the border. And now they were moving. Only where?  
>This thought was stopped halfway when Meyers noticed a flash of white. Shaped like the riverbeds, Streams held snow poorly - most of it was sliding down, leaving the bare rock coated in translucent ice. For once, Meyers was grateful for his gray uniform. White uniforms merchie scouts wore made them stand out in the Streams like those red Army uniforms in… well, everywhere. Meyers narrowed his eyes, catching the sight of the scout once again. The man in the hood was moving up the Stream, carefully picking his way. Once in a while, he stopped, pulled out a small notebook and a fountain pen, looked around and noted something.<br>Vincent recognized the action for what it was, for he did it many times in the last days. The merchie scout was finding a way for the entire army.

Meyers whistled voicelessly again and started to pull back up. So the merchies weren't going back to their shops - they were actually going up, probably even to the High Table.  
>That's not good, he thought, carefully retreating.<p>

_On the way to Arendelle city_  
>Major Andersen sat in front of his tent. It wasn't a huge, bulky permanent version the army used when camping on manuevres. It was small travelling version in which one couldn't count on much comfort and in which one couldn't even stand up. Andreas, then, preferred to sit in front of his tent and observe the camp life.<br>It was oddly derelict, but major guess that's normal with the camp of sick and injured. Those who were injured in the avalanche moved out first, without even folding their permanent tents. General Berg ordered so, putting Andreas in command of the train and promising he'll follow him as soon as he'll finish putting down the camp.  
>Andersen was quite worried, to be honest. Corp's master healer had reported a lack of certain herbs he needed and the major sent a few man on horseback to see if general's component of the army has anything in store. Only the men couldn't find general Berg anywhere. It was two days by now.<br>Stop it, he told himself. Perhaps he simply took a different way?

Andreas changed his position a bit so that his legs wouldn't go stiff and shot a glance towards yet another worrying element. When Her Majesty went to the capital, she left the second snow horse with the army. The creature was freaking everybody out, even though it proved extremely helpful. It seemed that it could pull any weight if it was fastened properly. Andreas had to cut master healer's dreams of making the snow horse pull all of the carts in the train short, because it was already worrying for everybody to see it pull two with less emotion or visible effort than a clock. People felt a bit as if it was a demon in hiding, ready to leap at them the moment they felt safe around it.

Major rose when he heard somebody's surprised voice. A short trip took him to another tent and an animal that was standing in front of it.  
>It was a reindeer. Andreas blinked and asked the man next to him:<br>"Isn't that quartermaster's steed?"  
>"Uhm, it might be, sir."<br>The animal looked at them and approached Andreas. It looked at him and major would swear it was begging him for something. Its eyes looked oddly intelligent.  
>What the hell. He already saw snow creatures, flying avalanches and entire country freezing in summer. Why not intelligent animals? He pointed the reindeer to Mikkeli's tent. The animal, to his dismay, licked him and went there, then slid in.<br>"Uhm… sir, should we let it be inside?"  
>"You want to try to pull it out?"<p>

_South of the North Mountain_  
>The army was making its pace quickly and silently through the falling night. Only the necessities were taken, as well as dozens of stored muskets and powder. Forced march was difficult, but not as difficult as it had been earlier, when they were still over the snow line.<br>General Berg was riding at the back of the column and listening to a major that filled in Kai's position.  
>"…Andersen's men were seen, sir. It seems to me they are looking for us."<br>"Not a big problem", general answered. "By tomorrow's morning we'll be way out of the range they'd consider looking in."  
>"If you say so, sir."<br>"I do. Is there anything else?"  
>"No, sir."<br>"Then thank you."  
>When the man moved away, general scolded himself in his mind. He had to admit it, he missed Kai and his approach to the job. Perhaps it was because of his aristocratic origins, but the boy had much less of this annoying regard one should reserve for saints only. And dear, how Berg missed that.<br>He wanted to brood a bit more, but a mounted man came to him and saluted in his saddle.  
>"Sir, there's a messenger from general Olafsen."<br>"Oh? What is it?"  
>A moment later a tired man on horseback arrived and saluted. General saluted back.<br>"What is it?"  
>"Sir, general Olafsen…", man took a deep breath and started again. "Sir, general Olafsen sends his regards. His scouts report seeing Weselton's military activity in the High Table valley and general worries that this might be beginning of war. There's more information in the message, sir."<br>"Alright.", Berg tried to keep his cool when taking the message from the man. "Dismissed. Soldier, find him something to eat and drink."  
>"Thank you, sir."<br>"Yes, sir."  
>Two man moved away and Berg opened the envelope. He took a lamp fastened to the saddle and read the message, growing more and more worried. Their plan was coming apart.<br>You knew this could happen, he reminded himself. Remember that phrase? No plan survives the first contact with enemy? Well, apparently some don't live even this long.  
>He only hoped that Rasmus had managed to leave the capital, and that he'd be in place before all the shit went down of Jens' head.<p>

_Stone Streams_  
>When Meyers looked at the Streams two days later, they looked much more different. What then was a net of open roads was now a giant bottleneck with a cork made of soldiers. It looked huge, scary and unpassable.<br>Be professional, man, he scolded himself. Bet the captain won't accept those three words as your entire report. So Vincent started to count and observe as much as he could, remembering the positions, counting the numbers and estimating the forces. It was actually impossible to do it fully - merchies closed the Streams shut in the middle of them and it was anyone's guess how many soldiers did they have behind front line of defenses.  
>What were the merchies <em>doing<em>, anyway? They just decided to close the Streams… because what? Because they were afraid that Weseltonians were going to do what, invade them?  
>Well, it might make some sense for merchies, Vincent admitted. After all, Weseltonians came with entire corps and made camp on the disputed territory. Why did general stop fretting about it was anyone's guess as well. Meyers suspected it was more comfortable for him to set tent on flat ground than on the mountain slope.<br>He scanned the area once again, making sure he remembered everything. Then he prepared himself to go back…

A crossbow bolt took him by surprise, slashing his left arm open. He turned frantically, trying to find the shooter. There he was, on the top of the "riverbed"! Vincent rose his own crossbow…  
>Another bolt hit him in his forearm from the back, throwing the crossbow out of his hands. Screw it, Vincent decided, abandoning the weapon and starting to run back up. It was no time for stealth.<br>It was half an hour of ducking, fear and sharp shifts of his course, full of hope that merchie regulars won't open musket fire at him. By the time he finally made it to Weselton outpost, he felt nearly dead. He made it out of the Streams alive only because of his thick jacket that absorbed most of the bolts. The healer described him as looking as a needle pillow.

Arendellans considered this incident a foiled pre-battle scouting on Weasel's side.

Weseltonians considered this incident the opening shots of war on merchie's side.

Both sides started to arm up, preparing for the other one to come to them.


	11. Chapter 11: Smoke and thunder

_Stone Streams  
><em> It was nearly afternoon when sun finally started to slide down over the ragged, mountainous horizon. Standing halfway in the Stone Streams, soldiers winced and cursed as it nearly blinded them. Everybody was fully aware that if Weasels wanted to attack, that was the best moment for them.  
>Not that it would be easy. While the ice under the Arendellan feet melted some time ago, everywhere else the Streams were coated in it, making any sort of descent or ascent a training in uncontrollable skiing. Below the line, soldiers worked hard to crush the ice and make the path safely passable, but over it, slippery layer reflected the sunlight like a giant mirror.<br>The line itself was no laughing matter. All over its length, in all canyons forming the Streams, is was bristling with fang-like, long blades of pikes and shorter, but no less dangerous muzzles of muskets. Of course, one could count only for the first salvo to be truly devastating - reloading the damned things took nearly a minute. As Weasels couldn't be counted on to give them enough time, crossbows waited for musketeers to pick up.  
>In the northern, wide canyon called unimaginatively N20, captain Soren Nexø watched the "riverbed" impatiently through the spyglass and snow goggles, hoping that Supplies could send a bit more of them. Of course, counting on Supplies to do its job properly was a recipe to get oneself killed quickly, so Nexø sighed and lowered the spyglass. He looked at the soldiers standing up and down the fifty feet wide line. Men seemed slightly stressed, the more the longer the sun shone over the horizon. Nexø understood them perfectly. What were the Weasels doing? Maybe they weren't going to attack at all? Or maybe they didn't even notice that they have the perfect opportunity? No. Weasels weren't idiots, whatever one might think about attacking a country whose ruler controlled winter itself.<br>Minutes and quarters passed by with Nexø looking through the spyglass more and more often. But no figures or weapons appeared at the top of the canyon. Sun was going lower and lower, robbing the Weasels of opportunity to strike.  
>Finally it stopped shining directly into their eyes. All around the captain, soldiers started to sigh and breathe with relief. The worst part was over. Somebody slung his musket over his shoulder. Somebody else said a joke about stupid Weasels, prompting men next to him to laugh. Nexø, though… couldn't get rid of a feeling that something bad was going to happen any moment now. Wouldn't it make more sense for Weasels to attack just as Arendellans relaxed?<br>"Stay alert.", he ordered. His men shot him surprised looks but obliged, picking up their weapons and resuming the watch…  
>Right on time, as suddenly dozens of mounted Weasels appeared over the horizon.<p>

The charge started with a yell that echo took up, making it seem as if there were thousands of cavalrymen running down the slope at them. Nexø gritted his teeth as the battle cry was drowned by sounds of hundreds of hooves hitting the ice in near unison, speeding up and resounding in people's heads. He took a deep breath.  
>"Fire!"<br>Boom of firing muskets nearly deafened him, and clouds of black smoke blinded everyone, changing the visible downhill charge into a terrifying sound in the darkness, in which screams of man, splashes of metal hitting the body, sounds of scared horses, of hooves and bodies hitting the ice, mixed together.  
>"Pikes forward!", Nexø hardly heard his own voice, but the men reacted and clank of metal was heard through the hooves. It was strong sound, but it quickly made way for smoke-enveloped charge.<br>"Bolts!", he screamed and crossbows shot without a sound. Another wave of screams and screeches could be heard and Nexø would swear there were less hooves running down now, but they grew closer and louder like a drums that couldn't be silenced…  
>And then they met the pikes.<p>

Horses, generally, don't charge on the pikes. They have more sense than to try throwing themselves on ten feet long blades. However, the ice was against them and terrified animals, trying to stop and back down, were sliding down, crashing into those who managed to slow down, barely losing their speed and falling, falling down.  
>Where the pikes awaited. The men nearly backed down when hundreds of pounds hit and got themselves pierced, dying with horrified howls, screams and screeches. Their riders, those who weren't crashed by the falling animals, tried to get over them and over the Arendelle line. First human blood was spilled as they jumped at them and the men couldn't get their pikes out of the falling animals. The musketeers were quicker, dropping the crossbows and pulling out their swords. Screams of rage and pain were heard in the dense, acrid smoke which clouded the vision, making every man in the both units fight on his own. Nexø didn't even know when did he join the combat, but there was a man in front of him in red uniform, so he attacked. The blood was nearly invisible on the material, but the man fell on the ground and another took his place among screams and darkness. Nexø stroke with a sword and punched in the throat at the same time. He finished with long slash that split his opponent's throat open and looked around, frantically trying to make something out in the smoke. He only heard screams and saw half-visible silhouettes fighting each other. He didn't have time to look more, because he was attacked again and had to fight.<br>There were much more Arendellan infantrymen than Weselton cavalrymen and soon it started to show. Men in red uniforms started to run back and Arendellans started chasing them. Nexø took a deep breath.  
>"Keep the line!", he screamed. "Stay on the line!"<br>For a long, terrible moment he thought they're going to ignore him and just run all the way to Weasel's lines. But they stopped, and those who didn't were stopped by their comrades. Nexø took a deep breath of the clearing air as the sounds of battle started to diminish. It was still going on, he heard it - other canyons had to be attacked as well. He looked on the ground. Less than twenty of his men had died, while the ground was nearly littered with Weasels' bodies, but… but… he didn't feel like he won. He felt like vomiting.  
>So that's what war looks like, he thought, looking up. His men had just finished reloading the crossbows. Nexø pointed at the Weasels, running away. He couldn't let them get back, so that they'd return to slay more of his men.<br>"Fire.", he ordered.

After the last screams faded, silence was ringing in his ears.

_3__rd__ Corps headquarters  
><em> General Olafsen rubbed his temples, looking at the detailed map of Stone Streams. All over the line, Weasels were attacking, either trying to break through or just probing his defenses. Most of the time, it ended like in N20, with nearly complete annihilation of Weselton forces. In one canyon the line broke under the weight of bodies that fell on it and Weasel's invaded… only to be cut down when Arendellans surrounded and swarmed them.  
>All in all, it was fairly good day for the Royal Army, as long as one could call war and two percent losses a good day. Olafsen doubted, though, that it was the first in long line of victories. Even if Weasels decided to go with the tactics of hammer, just hitting him head on, they had much more men to spend than Olafsen. And that presumed that they wouldn't try something tricky.<br>I just don't have enough men, he thought. I'm the one who has to be tricky, not them. It would be perfectly fine for them to just stay stupid!

_Arendelle  
><em>"Rise and shine, Kai.", Madsen heard when he groaned and opened his eyes.  
>He was looking at lavishly decorated ceiling with the royal crest in the middle. I'm in the royal castle, he realized with some incredulity. I'm alive and in the royal castle. What am I doing here?<br>"Woke up already?" He finally recognized the voice as belonging to Andreas. He turned to see the major sitting on a chair next to his bed.  
>"Um, uhm. Apparently.", he said and felt his stomach rumbling. "A… any chance of getting something to eat?"<br>"There should be.", said Andreas and went to the door, then knocked on them and leaned out. A moment later, he came back.  
>"Breakfast will come in a moment. Nice to see you back awake and responding, by the way."<br>"Right, thanks." Kai returned to staring at the ceiling, feeling completely exhausted.  
>Suddenly a though hit him and he sat upright, then stopped as his head started to spin. He looked at Andreas.<br>"What is it?", Andersen asked.  
>"Andreas, general Berg… He… he's planning…"<br>"What? He's supposed to be in the capital in a few days. Seeing how Kristiani's not here…"  
>"What?"<br>"The queen returned to find general Kristiani's army leaving for somewhere without an order."  
>Kai suddenly realized what happened. Kristiani… He must be on it with Berg. Who else?<br>"Hadn't Kristoff told you?"  
>"Christian, you mean? The moment he woke up he requested to talk with Her Majesty. What is it with the two of them, anyway?"<br>"He's name is Kristoff and he's princess Anna's boyfriend. Her Majesty put him in the army as her spy. Andreas, Kristiani's going to start a war with Weselton. And Berg is helping him."  
>"Whaa…?", Andreas opened his eyes widely. Then he cursed.<br>"Army messenger has galloped to the castle just a moment ago. Judging by his state, buddy, you woke up slightly too late."  
>Kai just stared at him for a moment. Then he felled back on his bed in despair.<br>He failed.

He was just lying there for what seemed like a really long time before the smell prompted him to get out of the bed. Breakfast.  
>While he was eating, Andreas just looked at him, worriedly. Finally, he said:<br>"Kai, there's nothing you could've done. Kristiani left the capital the same day the avalanche struck. And you couldn't have predicted the avalanche."  
>No, not really. Berg caused the avalanche. Damn him.<br>"Yeah. Alright." He nodded. "You think you can find out what's going on?"  
>"I think you've got better chances. Your father is in the palace."<br>Kai looked at him in surprise.  
>"My father? What is he doing here?"<br>"Well, he arrived two days ago, apparently for the annual report, but as the situation is as it is, he stayed."  
>"Ah. All right.", Kai nodded. He finished eating and stood up.<br>"Well, then, let's see if we can find something out."  
>Before he started to approached the door, they opened and elderly man in butler's livery looked in.<br>"Major Madsen, major Andersen, Her Majesty and general Madsen request your presence."

They were led to the room with oval table littered with maps in the middle of it. Around it stood the man with messenger's badge, Kristoff, Her Majesty and general Håkan Madsen.  
>Kai and his father weren't all that similar. General was nearly a head higher than Kai and while young Madsen always looked five years younger than he really was, baron Madsen's hair grayed early, giving him the look of elderly statesman. He eyed his son with slight, well-hidden look of relief in his eyes.<br>Kai saluted, first to the queen and then to his father. At his left, Andreas did the same.  
>"Your Majesty. General."<br>"At ease", his fathered ordered and motioned him to come closer.  
>"Majors, I've already heard Kristoff's description of what happened.", the Queen picked up. "I'd like you two to tell me as much as you remember about it."<br>Andreas apologized for knowing nothing and so Kai told the entire story, starting with the missing muskets and ending with Berg causing the avalanche and his further plans.  
>"We couldn't find his army anywhere.", Andreas added.<br>"I see.", Her Majesty nodded and turned to look at the messenger. The man seemed to be in late phases of shock - he had probably heard the entire story from Kristoff.  
>"Well, Your Majesty, sirs, I'm afraid it doesn't matter much anymore.", he said. "Wease… Weseltonians attacked us first. General Olafsen tries to hold the Stone Streams, but there's much more of them than us."<br>Her Majesty nodded, thanked the messenger and let him exit the room. Kai breathed deeply with regret. So whatever I tried to do, it failed. Weselton attacked us anyway. Maybe the general was right…  
>That doesn't make him less of a monster for killing half of his men, he reminded himself. Meanwhile, the Queen looked at his father.<br>"What's your opinion, general?"  
>Standing next to baron Madsen, she seemed really young. She <em>is <em>young, Kai realized with a bit of shock. Younger than me, in fact.  
>General looked at the map, stroking his beard.<br>"Well, with how the situation turned out, we can hardly continue chasing Kristiani and ordering him to return. Honestly, we'll be better off if he manages to get to Olafsen in time."  
>"And Berg?"<br>"He's probably already halfway through to wherever they planned him to strike." He turned to look at Kai. "How do you think, is Olafsen on it as well?"  
>"Well, sir. I know general Berg was meeting with generals Olafsen and Kristiani quite often shortly before we left. I think general Olafsen was in activist faction as well. So… yes, sir, I'd say he was on it."<br>General nodded.  
>"Actually, that's good. He's probably in contact with Kristiani and Berg, so for now, he'll manage. We can't really do much more in short term."<br>Her Majesty nodded. General blinked twice and added more thoughtfully.  
>"What worries me, Your Majesty, is that my agents' reports didn't seem to indicate that Weselton's planning a war."<br>"My agents' reports"?, Kai repeated in his head in surprise. Was his father a Royal Spymaster as well? This… actually made sense. With Fifth Corps he commanded scattered on dozens of islands and ships, he probably didn't have much generaling to do.  
>"They weren't planning a war?", the Queen asked.<br>"No. They apparently caught wind of Berg's maneuvers and sent somebody to check out if we're not planning something."  
>"So, why did they attack?", asked Kristoff, leaning on the table and looking at the general in surprise. If elder Madsen felt surprise that man without title or rank dare interrupt him, he didn't let it show.<br>"According to general Olafsen's message, there was some incident with scouts on both side involved a few days before Weseltonians charged down the Stone Streams. General Potter, their commander, is said to have a tendency to overreact. And there we are."  
>"The question is,", Her Majesty added. "What do we do now. The best would be to send diplomatic mission and stop the entire thing before it spins out of control, but I'd like to hear some ideas in case this didn't work out."<br>Everybody nodded and looked at the maps. Kai's eyes focused on that of the continent.  
>"Confederacy signed a trade treaty with Weselton a week or so ago.", general Madsen said. "Not to mention that they're not our staunchest supporters. If they are to side with anybody, it'll be Weselton."<br>"Would they attack, sir?", asked Kai, looking at the second biggest country on the map.  
>"Hard to tell, really. Since Isles rebelled and split, Confederates haven't been all that offensive-minded."<br>"What about Corona, then?", asked Her Majesty.  
>"They'd probably support us."<br>"But three quarters of their border is with Confederacy.", Kai noted, pointing at the map. "If they declared support, Confederacy could block them entirely in less than two days."  
>"We can't really do that to them.", the Queen nodded. "Especially as they are our only sure ally."<br>"Of course, Your Majesty."  
>Kristoff pointed at large country in the east, taking up most of the map.<br>"What about them?"  
>"Tamperans? Recently they've been so focused on the politics in the Far East, I doubt they'll even notice something's going on.", said general Madsen. "And don't even think about this cluster of nations south of Tampere - having the Empire for a neighbor, they're working very hard to look invisible and harmless."<br>Kristoff nodded.  
>"Well," said the Queen. "That leaves only one unknown. The Isles."<br>Everybody looked at pear-shaped Inner Sea. It's north was formed by Arendelle and Weselton, west and northeast was taken by Confederacy, majority of the east was Empire of Tampere and Corona was a tiny dot squeezed between Confederacy and the Empire. The entire southern end of Inner Sea was taken by dotted pattern of islands which shape reminded Kai about giant albatross facing south, with wings spread widely and Island of Westerguard forming the top of its beak.  
>"Hard to tell what they'll do.", said the general. "For now, I know only that prince Hans' arrival in Koenigsberg caused quite a ruckus. It seems that king Friedrich wants to punish him as he should, while his brother, Michael, is kind of opposed to the idea. They're too far away to be sure about anything, though. And if this war will finish in three weeks, they won't even have time to react to it."<br>The queen nodded.  
>"Well, then let's leave them. So our only option is to try to make peace with Weselton and fight on our own?"<br>"Apparently, Your Majesty."

_Unnamed valley  
><em>"Sir, a message from general Berg." The messenger stood at the entrance to the tent, saluting.  
>"At ease.", Olafsen ordered, taking the message from him. "Anything he said?"<br>"He has a plan regarding Weseltonians, sir. That's all I know."  
>"Alright. Go, get some rest."<br>When the man, left, Jens thrown the message on the table. It landed next to the one from Her Majesty - the one he hadn't opened yet. He didn't really feel like opening it.  
>After the initial catastrophe, Weasels didn't repeat heads-on attack. Instead, Olafsen's scouts found themselves being assaulted any time somebody tried to take a look at High Table. Arendellans hunted occasional Weasel scouts as well, but that didn't really fill Olafsen with joy. There was only one small skirmish when platoon in S6 canyon tried to move their defenses a bit higher up and hit the Weseltonians when both sides surprised themselves by showing up from behind the corner. Cavalrymen were destroyed completely - why did Weasel general even think of sending cavalry down the Streams? - but only two Arendelle soldiers returned. Apart from that, there was odd silence on Weasels' side.<br>They were preparing something tricky, he knew that.

He decided to start with Berg's message. He opened the envelope and moved himself a lamp.  
><em>Jens,<br>I hope you're doing somehow up there. In theory, I'm two days of forced march from you, but I have to slow down a bit or we'll be nothing more than a load to you by the time we get there. So count it as three days.  
>I have an idea, though. The maps show there's a small passage north of your position that could - after some twisting and turning, and some mountaincrossing - lead us to the High Table, behind what you marked as Weasel's position on the map you sent me.<br>_ Below this, there was a crude, sketchy map showing the path Berg wrote about. Olafsen nodded to himself and read on.  
><em>I propose, then, a plan: as I'm traveling lightly, I can walk this way without much ado, and strike Weasels - focused on you - in the back. Hopefully, it will ease the pressure they put on you and take them by surprise, meaning we could inflict considerable damage on their supplies. We can return the way we came there and I assure you, those lowland-bred horses of theirs have no chance to keep up with us.<br>Tell me what you think of it, but write quickly - tomorrow I'll have to decide whether I go to you or push to the north.  
>Bjorn<br>_ Jens thought about it. The idea was a bold one, and if Bjorn was so sure about his chances of success, surely worth a try. He wrote as much in his message and called the man who brought Berg's letter.  
>"Could you find the general and pass him my message?"<br>"Of course, sir."  
>The messenger left a moment later and Olafsen took another piece of paper.<br>_Rasmus,  
>It was good to hear you're on the way. You'll sure be a welcome addition to what I already have here.<br>Bjorn won't join us, though. He has a plan to surprise Weasels from behind - take a look at the map.  
><em> He redrew Berg's sketch and wrote on:  
><em>He believes he can succeed and I generally agree with him. He plans to strike them from behind. Long story short, he'll be the hammer and we'll be the anvil. I wrote him to go with the plan, so I hope you'll manage to get here.<br>Fare well,  
>Jens<br>_ I just hope he'll make it in time, Olafsen thought, folding the message and calling for someone to carry it. And I hope neither anvil nor hammer will shatter.  
>Having sent the message, he finally took the one from the Queen and opened it with some trepidation.<p>

_General Olafsen,  
>I am aware of the plan you, along with generals Kristiani and Berg, made regarding the war with Weselton. I know that you planned to start it and ruin the neighboring nation. I am definitely not grateful, nor am I happy about it and if the times were normal, you can be sure you'd all hang for treason.<br>However, times are not normal. For whatever reason, the Weseltonians decided to attack us and you are Arendelle's only defense against them. Therefore I have no choice but to give you free hand in your plan to protect our country. Yet remember that whatever your initial plan, it is not your task now to invade Weselton and I am wholly against any such actions. I seek the end of this conflict as quickly and smoothly as possible.  
>Whatever the outcome of this war, though, I will not forget what you and your fellow conspirators intended. Even if you shall become our nation's heroes and champions, I will keep in mind that the first of your plans was to betray us, and I will act accordingly.<br>May good fortune befall you,  
>Queen Elsa the First of Arendelle<em>

Well, thought Olafsen, his fingers shaking slightly as he folded the message, at least she's clear about it.

_Weselton  
><em> Prince Eric walked down the beach, watching his path carefully. There was a storm last night and furious sea threw a lot of trash and junk on the sand. He passed rocks, huge pieces of wood smoothed by the water, tangled fishing nets, something he couldn't name… He tried to, the exercise providing a much needed rest from the court work.  
>There was something going on in the Broken Back. He knew that, his father knew that, the generals knew that, but general Potter, so far, hadn't sent any message. It would be about time, Eric thought with annoyance. What does he have, memory of a goldfish? He should've…<br>His train of thoughts crashed suddenly when he stumbled on something soft. For a moment he thought he hit some unlucky seal, but when he looked down, he froze.  
>There was a human face staring back at him. It didn't have eyes and it was just beginning to decompose.<p>

Eric stared at it for a moment before regaining his senses. He noticed that a black line on the dead man's forehead was not a scar or wound, but a tattoo. He remembered a person with such a tattoo, as a matter of fact, even though he met him only in passing.  
>This man was a captain of small merchant ship that sailed between Weselton and Arendelle. He was also the agent of royal spymaster, colonel Hunter, and he specialized in army reports.<br>And now he was dead.

Arendellans hadn't killed him, that's for sure. Eric remembered something his father had told him when he was younger. Royal castle lay in an awful place, because everything from Port Royal and city of Weselton drifted into it.  
>So the men had had to be killed there. Maybe it was just an accident. But… he specialized in Arendelle army. And just as Arendellans were doing something strange, just as Hunter convinced the king to put an army at the border, just as there were no news… He ended up dead.<br>Something bad was going on.

"""""""

_Hello everybody! It's the last chapter I post this year, because it's Christmas time and I just plain don't have time. Also, between Christmas and New Year I want to write some "buffer chapters" so that I won't worry about meeting schedule I set myself (3 or 4 chapters a week)._

_So, WAWQ returns on January 2__nd__. Thanks for reading so far. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!_


	12. Chapter 12: Forcing changes

_Westerguard  
><em> Admiral Klaus Hauser was in a weird mood. Something between anticipation and trembling fear, with a little bit of determination mixed in. He didn't let it show, of course. His subordinates didn't call him "Stoneface" for nothing.  
>"…so that's it. Any questions?"<br>His commanders looked at each other, as if waiting for somebody to question him. The Westerguard Fleet was pathetic in more than one regard. It consisted of mighty total of five ships and all of them had been sent there because of something they did to anger the high command. People hated the service at the edge of the world, especially when they compared themselves to the huge pendulum ships that arrived from the Southernmost Lands, and they hated the endless rains, and the gloomy atmosphere, and the Weste, who seemed to know only their own tongue despite being nominally part of the Kingdom. In the first few weeks after their arrival, conscripted sailors used any opportunity to get out of this rock, forcing the officers to conscript locals, who were not too happy about this either. Soon the Islanders started to feel like besieged fort, with no aid in sight, surrounded by strangers.  
>"Well, sir, this is going to be lovely.", said one of the captains. "I mean - it's not like I'm going anywhere after Westerguard duty. At least I can bite the bastards back."<br>Hauser nodded, noticing similar sentiment on other faces. Stick it to the king and be done with it. Yeah, that would be nice. What then? Maybe he could buy himself a place aboard one of pendulum ships? It was said there's a lot of money to be made in the Lands. And he sure didn't intend to stay on this Almighty-forsaken rock forever.  
>"Then when do we start the sequester?", said another captain, fiddling with his pipe. Hauser drummed the fingers on the table.<br>"You sure your crews won't mind?"  
>"When we tell them they can keep three quarter of what we'll find?", said the third man. "Sir, they'll be pushing us to start right here and now."<br>"Alright, then. If you're all so sure about this, we'll start tonight. At…" he looked at the clock fitted in the ship's wall. "…third o'clock, let's say."

In the keep, the last preparations were being set in place as well. Colonel Roland Vaucherd looked at the shift schedule and nodded to himself. All of the Islander soldiers were scheduled to have their shifts end at midnight. By three o'clock, they should be sleeping well, absolutely exhausted after all day of training he put everybody through. The plan should go well, and later they could sort out who stays and who goes.  
>He heard a knock on the door and a moment later prince Hans entered.<br>"How are you doing?", he asked.  
>"Fine, thanks, prince.", colonel said. "Should we start titling you 'Your Majesty' already?"<br>"How about 'Your Grace'? I like that one better."  
>"Sorry, prince, but you're not graceful at all. Or majestic, for that matter."<br>Hans grinned, even though it seemed slightly artificial. He's a good actor, Vaucherd thought. I wonder whether in reality he's a completely stressed-out kid or absolutely cold-blooded bastard? I think I hope for the second, actually.  
>"How about 'Your Sneakiness', then? I bet I'd be the only ruler with that title."<br>"Let's wait and see if you'll pull it off first.", colonel said and tilted his head. "I presume you didn't come simply to ask me about titles?"  
>"No, not really." He paused to sneer. "I wanted to ask you about what you're planning to do with those who decide not to side with us."<br>"We'll just keep them in the dungeons."  
>"Are you not worried they'll try to escape?"<br>"That's an ever-present danger, sir. In my head it's pretty much on the same level as the chance that Friedrich will send marines to infiltrate us." He shrugged. "Even if any of those happen, this is Westerguard, prince. They'll be visible like… like a witch in the cathedral."  
>Hans nodded, then winced.<br>"What kind of metaphor is that?"  
>"Stupid Islander language has no useful ones, so I have to make them up."<p>

The night had fallen, but everything was far from calm. It was pretty much impossible to prepare anything in a community like Weste without anybody hearing about it. Entire island seemed abuzz with rumors in the darkness, with people speaking lowly and suddenly going silent whenever a stranger approached. Non-Weste quickly found themselves unwelcome in pubs and bars and they returned to their ships, curious and worried. After midnight, though, it seemed that situation calmed down. It might had something to do with colonel Vaucherd coming down and quietly telling people to shut up. They shut up, then, and turned their attention to fort and port, waiting for proverbial bomb to go off.  
>It did at three o'clock.<p>

"Wake up!", somebody screamed on the pier. "Royal control, let us aboard!"  
>Tired, sleepy sailors complied, hearing deafening shouts. The gangplank was lowered and suddenly they found themselves flooded by uniformed men. Rubbing his eyes, captain of large pendulum ship climbed aboard, only to be suddenly pushed on the floor, with hands behind his back. More screams were heard as the navy men unceremoniously arrested all of the officers and led them out of the ship, leaving only not understanding, still half-asleep sailors, and their own watchmen that looked all too dangerous to try and confront. One of them stepped forward.<br>"This ship is now a possession of Westerguard government!", he declared. "Anything of wealth aboard this ship is ours as well! You are forbidden to leave! Will anybody try…"  
>He rose his crossbow with a grin that suggested he'll be all too happy to point it at anyone who'd try. Sailors backed off.<br>"Good men.", watchmen said. "We'll be off this ship soon! This doesn't mean you're free to go! Until we say otherwise, this ship will stay right where it is! Is that clear?"  
>All over the port, similar shouts could be heard as navy sequestered all of the ships. They couldn't take them all at once, of course - they didn't have nearly enough men. Two ships, at the end of the pier, decided to take their chance. Captains of large pendulum and small courier quickly reached an agreement and when navy men came, they were welcomed by shots from crossbows and "wolves", small anti-boarding cannons. While the first had rather poor accuracy in sailors' hands, the wolves were used extensively on the Stormbringing Ocean and so they took their toll. There were screams of pain and blood on the wood when navy men scuttled back and approached again, this time more carefully. Pendulum and courier started to set their sails, although larger unit didn't have huge chance to escape. Smoke filled the pier, covering their actions, and wolves shot again, this time less accurately as the smoke covered the approaching sailors. Crossbow bolts whizzed by and some stroke by luck. A moment of silence and then BOOM of firing wolves and thump-thump-thump of musket ball hitting the wood and splash! of one finding a body to kill. Hearing that navy has muskets, pendulum captain cursed and hurried up his men. Wolves fired again, but this time in lesser numbers. Somebody must had been hit.<p>

"Oo-ooh", major Mousac murmured to himself, running to the keep's walls. Vaucherd's soldiers ran past him quickly to the quarters of sleeping Islanders, trying to get them in chains before they realize something's going on. Hauser screwed something up, Mousac thought, there were supposed to be no cannons there! Great! Now we can just start waving a banner saying "Hi, we're the rebellion! Here, shoot here!".  
>Hearing soldiers behind him encouraging their comrades to come out, saying nothing bad will happen to them if they do, he decided that maybe it's not that bad. Judging by the sounds, it were just wolves in the port. Stupid Friedrich and his stupid regulations finally proven useful for something.<br>He jumped out and shivered, feeling the cold air. Gun crews - all knowing what was happening - looked at him and saluted.  
>"Back to the guns.", Mousac said. "And report."<br>"Two of the ships managed to pull out of the port", the closest gun chief said, passing Mousac a spyglass. Major looked through it and cursed. Indeed, two were leaving, pendulum ship and courier, the former still trailing smoke from its wolves. Bastard could fit a lot of them on such a large deck.  
>"You think navy'll catch them?", he asked.<br>"They'll have no problem with the pendulum", gun chief noted. "It's moving with a pace of a snail. Courier, though…"  
>"Yeah.", Mousac winced. Courier ships were built for speed, and especially speed in leaving the port. They were supposed to run away from the island under attack and bring information about it to Koenigsberg as soon as possible. Stupid Islanders were doing their job well. What was worse, navy guns couldn't hit it, because pendulum was acting like a giant shield that would eat any shots in that direction. Two navy ships were moving out to intercept them, but their chances to catch courier were rather low.<br>"What is it?", Mousac heard the voice behind him. He turned to see prince Hans, who looked surprisingly well-groomed and relaxed. I wonder if he slept tonight. Probably not.  
>"Two ships are running away.", Mousac said, passing the spyglass. "Pendulum won't make it, courier will."<br>Hans looked through the spyglass and gave it back.  
>"Well, that's bad.", he agreed. "You think you could hit it from here?"<br>"Courier?", Mousac asked in surprise. "Well, I guess we can…"  
>He looked at the courier again. It would be at least five days before it reached Koenigsberg. Would it make sense to kill them just like this?<br>"Major, we can't let them escape.", he heard Hans saying. "We need all the time we can get and this courier will steal a lot of it from us. It doesn't please me any more than it does you, but we have to do this."  
>Damn it, he <em>was <em>right. Mousac gritted his teeth, looking at the ship through the spyglass again. He could see the people, moving frantically, trying to escape. I'm a soldier, he told himself. I can't pity my enemies.  
>Only they weren't his enemies a few hours back. They were just couriers in times of peace who didn't expect the civil war to break out. One of them even tried to flirt with Mousac's cousin.<br>You're a soft-hearted idiot, he told himself and looked at the gun crew. You've rebelled already. Just do it, you idiot.  
>"Ready the guns", he ordered. "Take the courier down."<br>They nodded and got to the job. I wonder if they thought the same I did, Mousac asked himself, stepping back and taking earmuffs out of the basket by the door.  
><em>BOOM.<br>BOOM.  
>BOOM.<br>_ A moment of break when the wind chased away the smoke. A short rearrangement of the guns to point accurately.  
><em>BOOM.<br>BOOM.  
>BOOM.<br>BOOM.  
><em> Mousac came to the wall's edge and looked through the spyglass. Courier was sinking and men tried to escape it, pulled underwater by their heavy shoes and the small maelstrom of ship going down. Not many managed it. Behind them the man-of-war shot a warning towards the pendulum. Large ship's captain looked at the fort and Mousac would swear the weathered man looked straight at him.  
>Pendulum surrendered a moment later. Mousac turned back to talk to the prince and froze for a moment. The expression on Hans' face was quick to disappear, replaced but calm anticipation and edge of worry, but it seemed to burn itself into Mousac's memory.<br>I'm serving a cold-blooded psycho, he thought with a shiver. And I've just committed myself to him, because after sinking this courier, there's no way I could back out of this. And this man will kill me without batting an eye if I try.  
>Well, he does care for Westerguard. Let's hope that will keep him in check.<p>

Morning was surprisingly calm. When the sun rose, all seemed oddly similar to how it was the previous evening. One could notice changes, though. Watchmen on pier and ships. Courier missing. Pieces of wood and sail floating slowly. Armed patrols on the streets. Silence, as people wondered what would happen next.  
>Hans turned back from the window and looked at the man in the room. Hauser seemed completely under control, although prince could see anger boiling underneath. The anger seemed to be directed at somebody else, though - probably the pendulum's captain, who managed to kill eleven of Hauser's men. Admiral might be annoyed with his service here, but this were his men. Mousac seemed slightly distressed and tried not to look directly at Hans. He seemed unsure regarding his actions at night. Hopefully he'd make up his mind soon. Fort butler, Massoix, was serving them drinks with the same stressed-out, frantic movements as usually, reminding Hans of a scared rabbit. Chief of city watch, Dauchere, seemed annoyed, drumming his fingers on the table. Only Vaucherd looked relaxed. He managed not to kill any of his man during the arrest.<br>"Well, there we are.", Hans said, sitting at the table. "I understand some of you might have doubts about this, but there's no turning back now."  
>They nodded, Mousac and Hauser as well, to Hans' relief.<br>"What do we do now, then?", asked the former.  
>"We arm up. Hopefully, it will take Friedrich a long time before he finds out something's going on."<br>"What about ships that will be coming here?", Hauser asked.  
>"We keep them here. We don't let anybody out."<br>"We've got finite amount of space."  
>Hand thought about it.<br>"If we'll run out of space, we'll start destroying some of the ships. Not all of them, of course. I'd rather we had some means of escape if all went to tatters."  
>They nodded, even though they had to realize that if circumstances were as bad as to validate an escape, they wouldn't manage it on a ship. But hope was a good thing to have.<br>"What do we do when Friedrich arrives with his forces?", Vaucherd said.  
>"If he tries negotiations, we negotiate. If he tries assault, we fight back."<br>"What do we negotiate?", Dauchere said, stopping the drumming.  
>"Independent Westerguard, of course."<br>Dauchere nodded to himself and smiled grimly.  
>"Then I'll better start training my men in invasion repelling."<br>"Yeah, it will probably come down to that.", Vaucherd agreed. He also smiled, a bit more cheerfully.  
>"Hey, prince, have you paid some thought to naming our new mighty country?"<br>Hans shook his head, slightly surprised.  
>"Not really. And you?"<br>Vaucherd shrugged.  
>"How about 'Princedom of Westerguard'?"<br>The men looked at each other.  
>"Nice and simple.", Hauser said. "Fine for me."<br>Others nodded.  
>"Princedom of Westerguard it is, then.", said Dauchere, rising his glass. "May it grow old and rich."<br>They toasted to that.

_Inner Sea  
><em>"Alright. Eat your breakfast, princess."  
>Bowl of something light-brown and stinky landed on her lap. Anna looked at it.<br>"What… is this?", she asked, carefully picking it up and smelling. Ouch. Bleh. Sailor called Shorty glared at her.  
>"It's an oatmeal, princess. What else would it be?"<br>"I ate oatmeal before, you know. I remember it looking… less like mud and more like food."  
>Bored - whose real nickname was, of all things, Stick - groaned and took the bowl from her.<br>"If Her Majesty doesn't want to eat our plebeian food, I'll be all too happy to relieve her of it.", he said.  
>"Heyeyey, I haven't said I'm not eating it!" She tried to stand up and take it, but the chain on her ankle stopped her from making more than a step. Stick smiled maliciously and spitted to the bowl, then gave it back. Anna looked with disgust at pieces of tobacco he chewed, now swimming in the oatmeal.<br>With a sharp movement, she thrown the contents of the bowl at Stick. The men jumped back with an unmanly scream, but most of the disgusting oatmeal landed on his clothes, face and hair.  
>"You b…", he called her names, trying to clean his clothes, but the only thing he managed to do was smearing the stinking thing all over himself. Shorty looked at it with mixed feelings. He leaned to Anna.<br>"You can forget about eating anything tomorrow.", he told her.  
>"If all the dishes are of this quality, I can start fasting", she answered.<br>"We're aboard a ship, not in a freakin' royal palace.", he said. "You think we eat any better?"  
>"He didn't have to spit in it, though."<br>"You offended him."  
>"With what?"<br>"He's the ship's cook."  
>Anna winced. Well, stupid me. Still haven't learned to think before acting. But honestly? She had enough. She'd been aboard this ship - or rather under its board - for four days already and she didn't know what's going on, where is she or who kidnapped her. Food they gave here was growing steadily worse, culminating with the oatmeal, now all over pissed off Stick.<br>"I'm not apologizing to him."  
>"Your choice. I would if I were you. You see…"<br>He didn't finish, because Stick suddenly pulled out a monster of a knife and Shorty moved away. Anna squealed, trying to move out of the path of angry men. She couldn't - chain held her ankle…  
>He pinned her to the wall and put the knife to her throat. His eyes were pretty much level with her and there was pure fury in them. And he stunk. She thought Kristoff and Sven were bad when she met them, but Stick's stink nearly made her faint. He bared his teeth and she shivered.<br>"Princess", he growled. "You behave. We have a long journey left and the only thing we can't do is killing you. So you don't want to make me angry, because you wouldn't like me when I'm angry. You can never know when will you stay alone with me and there's a strong wind, princess. Nobody will hear you."  
>Anna tried to react somehow, but the man had a strength of a draft horse. The knife nearly pierced her skin and she didn't dare nodding.<br>"Alright…", she uttered. "Clear. I'm sorry."  
>"And you should be.", he let her go and she collapsed on the wooden floor. He murmured something to himself and left, cursing.<br>Anna looked at Shorty and little man shrugged.  
>"Sorry, princess. I won't be defending you."<br>"Figured as much", she agreed, rubbing her throat.  
>She had to be more careful. She didn't like what Stick was implying. Not at all.<p>

_Koenigsberg  
><em> Valdemar Schwalzmaar chewed his pipe, watching his men fix the ship, take down the sails and all that. He had already heard the news and was rather angry. The Kingsguards were searching every ship that left the port. Somebody run off, it seemed. The prize for catching that somebody was lovely, but Valdemar doubted he knew anything. Besides, those new controls were rather disruptive for less than legal part of the business he was making. Multiple hiding places aboard _Lucky Zephyr _didn't stand a chance against a searches as fierce as the rumor had them.  
>"Valdemar!", Lidka screamed from the pier. "Come and see that!"<br>Curious, he went down the gangplank and joined her. She was holding something.  
>"What is it?"<br>"A Wanted poster.", she said. "Just look at this prize! _Fifty thousand marks!_"  
>"And why are you telling me…" He stopped when she turned the poster for him to see. He leaned closer and goggled.<br>"That's this boy! Hans… Soor, was he?"  
>"Him exactly!" She smiled. "So what, honey? Let's make some money, shall we?"<p>

""""

_Hi everybody! I hope you had a nice Christmas and New Year's Eve. I did and managed to write a week's worth of buffer chapters. _

_So yeah, back to these guys. We haven't seen them since... whoa, six chapters? This entire war plot takes waaay too much space._


	13. Chapter 13: Outwitting each other

_Arendelle  
><em> Father approached Kai when major was sitting over the paperwork. He stopped a few steps back and asked:  
>"What is it?"<br>"Berg's documents. I'm trying to work something out of them."  
>"Like what?"<br>"Who else is on their scheme." Kai rested his head on his hands. "But I can't find anything!"  
>Older Madsen shoved himself a chair and sat right next to Kai.<br>"Isn't that your handwriting?", he asked, looking at the papers spread out on the desk. "What do you think you can pull out of that?"  
>"I don't know! Maybe there's something I didn't pay attention to then and…"<br>"Don't be ridiculous, kid. Do you really think Bjorn wouldn't burn all papers that might compromise him?"  
>"I don't know!"<br>"Then believe me when I say he would and get hold of yourself. You've been sitting and strangling yourself in this study for the last two days. Stop it right now and get out of this room."  
>"I have to…"<br>"Stop it, I said. It's not important right now." He stood up and patted Kai on the shoulder.  
>"Don't blame yourself. There's nothing to blame you <em>for<em>, so don't invent reasons, Kai. There's no need."  
>He beamed over him and collected all the papers.<br>"I'm eating a dinner with Her Majesty tonight. Willing to accompany me?"  
>"Uhm… With the Queen?" Kai looked at the papers, then at himself. "Maybe… I guess I'll have to change first…?"<br>"Yes, that would be advisable. And a bath. Dear, Kai, mother would disown you if she saw you right now. And then she'd strangle me for letting you slip into such a state."  
>Kai actually managed a chuckle, imagining his sedate, composed mother strangling his father. The general put the papers in the box and shoved it on the shelf.<br>"Don't worry now. I'm sure you'll get some new things to worry about at the dinner."

Kai actually managed to get himself quite presentable. He was rather thankful for the hot water in castle bath, as well as silent, nearly invisible servant who made his dress uniform probably cleaner than it was when Kai got it. He still wasn't sure why he was staying in the castle instead of army camp, though. He figured there wasn't much to do for him there, but in the castle all he did was to worry.  
>The dinner was a small affair. Present were the Queen, general Madsen, Kristoff, baron Sibbern - Royal Chancellor - and Kai himself. The food was good, although rather… exotic for Kai's military-accustomed taste. For a time, the only sounds were the clanks of cutlery and chewing, rather audible in Kristoff's case. Finally the Queen put down her fork and said:<br>"I hope you enjoyed the meal."  
>"It was downright… wonderful", said Kristoff, with part of the food still in his mouth. The Queen smiled slightly and Kai noted it seemed to take some of her years away. Then the servants started to collect everything from the table and she went serious again, looking at Sibbern and general Madsen.<br>"Any word of my sister?"  
>"No, my lady.", the Chancellor said. "Our scouts can't find her anyway."<br>"Neither my sources.", the general added.  
>Her Majesty rubbed her temples.<br>"She didn't go to the war zone, did she?"  
>"I hope she didn't.", Kristoff added. "But if she did, I guess we'd have already heard something about it."<br>"Probably.", she agreed, her face emotionless. She's got much practice, Kai nodded. I wonder if somebody can guess what she's really thinking.  
>Her Majesty reached for a praline from a glass chalice put on the table by a servant.<br>"About that, how is the war going?"  
>Kai was curious himself, so he started to listen.<br>"So far, no changes.", his father said. "I'm fairly confident that Weseltonians are planning some sort of a trick to drive Olafsen out of the Streams, but so far, they're doing nothing except chasing away or killing any scout who tries to take a look at the High Table. Entire war pretty much turned into series of scout duels."  
>He took a sip of wine from his goblet and continued.<br>"Kristiani had joined Olafsen, so our forces in Streams doubled. Right now numerally we're probably equal to Weseltonians."  
>"Probably.", the Queen noticed.<br>"Their camp is a white area on scouts' maps, Your Majesty. They might've been sent reinforcements and we wouldn't know anything."  
>Her Majesty nodded, taking another praline. How does she stay fit, eating so much chocolate?, Kai asked himself with wonder, then chided himself for letting his mind wander.<br>"And how's Berg's plan going?", Kristoff asked. Kai felt as if somebody stabbed him in the back. Berg had some sort of a plan and was implementing it? Why didn't Kai know about it?  
>Because you've locked yourself with his papers in a tiny study, that's why. Father was right. It's about time to leave it and focus on now.<br>"Well, it seems.", the general said. "Of course, so far he didn't reach anything dangerous, so it's hard to say how this will work out in the end."  
>Kai nodded and so did the Queen. Kristoff didn't seem all that calm, though.<br>"What if Weasels thought about the same?", he asked.  
>General shrugged.<br>"The entire purpose of this manoeuvre of his was to pull part of Weseltonian forces away from Olafsen - Olafsen and Kristiani, now. If he'll crash into Weseltonians before reaching High Table, he'll still accomplish his goal."  
>"True.", Kristoff agreed and they looked at each other with Kai. Major saw reflection of his own thought in mountaineer's eyes.<br>_And maybe he'll get himself killed in the process.  
><em> Short silence was broken when the Queen leaned back in her chair, chewing on yet another praline.  
>"There's also a matter of sending somebody to try and negotiate peace with Weselton.", she noted. "I've been talking with chancellor Sibbern and we're both sure of who to send."<br>"Then who will it be, Your Majesty?", general asked.  
>Kai was quite curious about it too, but then he noticed the queen looking at him and Kristoff. He blinked. She surely wasn't thinking about…<br>"Wait, us?", Kristoff asked backing off. "Like… me and Kai? Are you…"  
>General and chancellor glared at him and he hid his head in his shoulders.<br>"I mean, I'm no diplomat. I'm a… that Royal Ice Deliverer thing."  
>"And you still think it's your job to deliver ice?", the Queen asked and… yes, she did smile. Kristoff, for a contrast, didn't seem happy at all. He nodded gloomily.<br>"Yeah, I should've figured this out by now. I'm some sort of a personal agent of yours, right?"  
>"Right. Don't worry. You're not going alone."<br>Kai felt every pair of eyes in the room turn to him.  
>"Uhm, Your Majesty, with all due respect, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I don't have any more experience in diplomacy than you do…"<br>"Comparing your turn of phrase to Kristoff's, you have much more.", Sibbern noted with a bit of amusement, to mountaineers grunt. "Besides, you're both a soldier and an heir to a barony. Hardly the worst choice for this mission."  
>Kai glanced at the Queen, who still looked at him with a smile.<br>"Then… I guess it will be my pleasure?"  
>"See?", his father said, patting him on the arm. "You're already getting good at it."<p>

After dinner, Kai and his father walked together, as their quarters were next to each other.  
>"So, did you enjoy the dinner with the Queen?", general asked. Kai, still a bit shocked from his new assignment, shrugged.<br>"It surely was… informative."  
>Father chuckled.<br>"It's not what I've been asking about, you know."  
>Kai eyed him.<br>"Why, you mentioned the Queen specifically for some reason?"  
>His father shrugged with a mysterious smile and Kai… he goggled at him.<br>"You are _not_ thinking what I think you're thinking!"  
>"Why not? I mean… she is still young. And soon there will be talks of finding a suitable husband for her."<br>"But… father, we're in the middle of war!"  
>"Long-time planning, Kai. It's a useful skill."<br>"But… come on! She's a _Queen_, for Almighty's sake!"  
>"And you're an heir to a barony. You can't get much higher than that. Only the king holds more power than a baron. So…"<br>"But… father! I…", he felt himself reddening. "She doesn't even notice me!"  
>"Oh, so that's why she has chosen you for a diplomatic mission to country we're at war with? Fascinating."<br>"But… Surely there are better candidates!"  
>"Really? Funny thing, I'd think you'll be oriented better than me, seeing how you were in the capital when I was away. Let me recap it for you then: the only person of proper gender, high enough rank and eligible age apart from you is baron Sibbern's son. And you know what would people say if the Chancellor started to push him to marry the Queen?"<br>Kai gulped.  
>"That he's one of those evil chancellors from bad books, trying to control Her Majesty?"<br>"Exactly! So with young Sibbern out of equation, that leaves only you."  
>"Father…"<br>"Yes, Kai?"  
>"You know… this conversation makes me… like, really, really uncomfortable. I don't think I need <em>that<em> on my mind right before swimming to an enemy country."  
>Father just chuckled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Then he turned to enter his room.<br>"I'm just telling you to think about it."  
>"Yeah, sure. Can we stop talking about it, please?"<br>"Sure. We'll come back to it later." He disappeared in his room. Kai felt his face burning red.  
>"Father!"<p>

_Weselton  
><em> Eric walked down into the port and looked around. There were few ships standing there, and most displayed Weselton flags. There were some - although you could count them on two hands - flying the flags of other nations: one from Tampere, few from Confederacy and Isles. Eric wasn't looking for them, though. He was looking for one particular Weselton ship.  
><em>Graceful Lady<em>. That was the name of the ship of Hunter's dead spy. Eric had managed to put his hands on spymaster's documents by chance, really, when he passed the door to the man's study and discovered them open. He was lucky to start looking in the pile titled "trash", figuring it to be the most probable one. He found the paper and slipped away with it just before the servant came and put all the "trash" pile in the fire.  
>Abraham Sidney was the dead captain's name. Eric, careful to hide his face, asked about him in the portside bars. Yes, they knew him. Well, he arrived in the port maybe a week back, they said after a beer or two. He did seem kind of worried and didn't want to talk, they added after he paid for their next beer. And yes, <em>Graceful Lady <em>was still standing in the port. So Eric paid for two more rounds for a promise that they won't mention his interest in Sidney to anybody.

He slowly walked down the pier, carefully checking the names of each Weselton ship in a row. But no - she wasn't there. He cursed silently. Had _Graceful Lady _left already? She sure wasn't standing in royal port. Or maybe Hunter had her burnt? No, impossible - it would be the talk of all bars.  
>He stopped at the end of the pier, then went back, checking again. Maybe she changed name, he thought. But no - folks in the bar agreed on what Sidney's ship's name was. So where was it?<br>He went back to the pier and noticed a man on Tampere ship eying him curiously. He sure didn't look like Tampere - his skin was much too dark for that. More like Coronian, really. Maybe he was Coronian, Eric thought. Maybe the ship was actually Coronian spy…  
>Wait. If <em>Graceful Lady <em>was spying in Arendelle, she sure wouldn't fly Weselton flag. I'm an idiot, Eric told himself, checking the names of other countries' ships. Not Islander, he guessed. Islanders weren't welcome in Arendelle this days either.

It was Confederate ship. Eric stood in front of it. It seemed to be in a good shape, although in strong need of cleaning. There seemed to be no one aboard.  
>"Hello aship!", he called as he heard the sailors do. It took a while for somebody to appear aboard and it wasn't an officer but a sailor.<br>"What?", the man asked. He clearly wasn't happy about somebody bothering him. If I am to learn anything, thought Eric, I have to find some way to convince him to listen to me first.  
>"Do you know where's your captain?"<br>"What's your business? He's not here."  
>"What if I told you I know where he is?"<br>Sailor eyed him suspiciously.  
>"And you know?"<br>"Yep."  
>The man disappeared and Eric worried that he simply dismissed the prince as a fraud or joker. But moment later a gangplank hit the pier.<p>

"So", the man said, staring at Eric with his head low, "you're saying he's dead?"  
>There were three sailors with him now, all big, no-nonsense men who dwarfed Eric. I better convince them, prince thought. At least convince them that I'm a prince.<br>"Saw him myself.", he said. "Storm threw his body on the royal beach."  
>"Oh, really? And what would make you wander on the king's own beach, man?", another sailor asked.<br>Eric reached under his tunic and pulled out a royal ring he carried on a necklace with him all the time. Sailors leaned close to examine it, then looked at Eric.  
>"Your Highness Prince.", the one who let him aboard murmured. "Since when are you an investigator?"<br>"Or a spymaster, for that matter.", another one said. The rest looked at him and sailor shrugged. "What? We all knew the officers were making extra money on spying for His Majesty." He turned back to Eric. "So?"  
>"I'm fairly sure colonel Hunter - he's the real spymaster - had him murdered and I want to know why."<br>Sailors looked at each other.  
>"Whoa.", the one who asked about spymaster said. "Well, that would explain why he's absent."<br>"Sure", another one said. "Hunter didn't tell you?"  
>"I think he didn't.", Eric said. "Why else would he kill your captain than to hide information he didn't want us to know?"<br>"Right." The man shook his head. "Afraid we can't help you, though. It was the officers who were managing this spying thing. They never told us anything."  
>"Then where are your officers?"<br>"Good question."  
>"Probably in the same place captain was before storm threw him out.", another one noticed.<br>"Nah, come on. At least some of them must be hiding.", said yet another one.  
>"Then where could I find them?", Eric asked.<br>They were thinking for a moment before the one who asked about Eric as spymaster said:  
>"The first - first officer - had the best chances to run. He knows all the smugglers."<br>"Could he hide with one of them?", Eric asked.  
>"Probably."<br>"Which one?"  
>"Hm… You know the man called Drachner?"<br>Eric froze. Drachner again. Was this man everywhere?  
>"Felix Drachner, yeah. I've heard about him."<br>"Then that's where I suggest you look for the first."

Eric left the ship with some information. _Graceful Lady_'s first officer was called William Fry and he was short, stocky man, slightly overweight, balding, with short, blond hair. The bar that served as Drachner's men's den was called _The Red Boar_ and was on the outskirts of port. That's where Eric went.  
><em>Red Boar<em> was a small tavern stuck between a cheap motel and a house of dubious reputation. When Eric entered, he nearly choked on the pipe smoke, bear and sweat that seemed to fill the air. The entire place was crowded and covered in shadow which hid the faces of men - sailors, blokes and more dangerously-looking types - who sat there. All in all, a typical run-down place, like in those pirate stories. Eric sat by the bar and ordered a lager, then looked around.  
>It was stupid. Fry would surely not sit in the bar, drinking, where everyone could see him and push a knife through his guts. He was probably hiding upstairs. But how could Eric get there? The place was smugglers' den…<br>Well, worth a try. Maybe they'll be too busy marveling at his stupidity to actually kill him. He finished his beer, paid for it and left, looking for stairs. Unfortunately, there was a guard waiting there, huge man with pig's eyes, scanning the crowd. Not the type uncle Andrew hired - much smarter. I've got to distract him somehow, Eric thought. How? What did they do in all these stories?  
>Passing a table, he knocked the beer off. The man who drank it stood up with a fit of rage that caught the attention of others.<br>"Hey, you! Watch your steps!"  
>"Sorry.", Eric murmured, trying to pass, but then he was caught and pinned to the ground with a slum and thump he could feel in his head. Angry, drunk man looked at him.<br>"And you think…!", he started.  
>"Hey, I thought you were into girls!", another sailor said mockingly.<br>The Angry didn't like that at all. He let go of Eric and with curses, thrown himself at the mocker. Sailor answered in fashion and Eric scrambled to his feet when men around him used the opportunity to start a bar fight.

Half on his knees, hearing shouts and broken glass and wood over him, he managed to get to the stairs. No guard? He scanned the bar quickly, but couldn't make anything out in the darkness and loud fight. Doesn't matter. Jumping by two steps, he got upstairs.  
>Sounds of fight were more muffled there and the place was surprisingly clean. Eric walked quickly, clenching his hands into fists and trying to hear something.<br>He stopped and crouched, hearing voices behind the door.  
>"So yeah, we offed him. And what? You think it's such a problem, offing you as well?"<br>"But… but why? Drachner promised me protection!"  
>Was it Fry, or somebody else?<br>"Maybe. But he promised it to the other guy too, and see how this worked out?"  
>"But why me? I have nothing to do with Sidney!"<br>Nothing to do with Sidney? So the man probably wasn't Fry… Then where was _Lady_'s first officer? Could he be the man killed? Eric cursed in his head.  
>"Oh, sure. You were chatting like best buds with that round officer of his. Sorry, buddy, but no discussion here. If you sit still, it won't hurt you."<br>"Please, no…"  
>The man could know something. I have to keep him alive somehow, Eric thought and decided to improvise.<br>He stood up, opened the door and froze. There were two people in the room, tall, slender man younger than Eric and huge bloke with a giant hunting knife, both crouching by the table, the former clearly terrified. The latter looked at Eric, who found himself at loss of words. Say something, you idiot!  
>"Somebody killed the watchmen at the door!", he screamed. Bloke stood up.<br>"What?"  
>"I'm telling you, somebody killed him! He started the fight, pulled the man down and knifed him!"<br>Bloke cursed.  
>"Right, moment."<br>He turned to tall man and Eric decided to do something. He grabbed the chair and broke it on bloke's head. Monster of a man only shook his head and turned back to Eric, who was left with table leg in his hands. He punched the man again and the bloke rose a knife to strike. Before he could stab Eric, though, tall man grabbed him by the wrist and stuck his fingernails in it. Bloke screamed and let go of his knife, which Eric grabbed and hit him between the eyes with its hilt.  
>He heard a crack and bloke slumped to the ground. They looked at each other with tall man.<br>"There really is a fight going on down there", Eric said.  
>"I know a back exit!", tall man answered, terrified.<p>

They exited the place and ran until they were sure nobody was following them. Then they stopped. Tall man leaned on the wall, panting heavily, and Eric put his hands on his knees, breathing. He looked up.  
>"Harvey Redd.", the tall man said. "Man, I owe you my life. Hell, I owe you, I freakin' owe you, thank you, thank you…"<br>"Alright.", Eric nodded. "I'm looking for information."  
>"I'll tell you anything you want, men. I owe you…"<br>"Yes, I've heard that. What did Fry tell you? About why he's hiding? Anything?"  
>Redd bit his lip and stared into the sea for a moment, calming down. Then he answered:<br>"He said gov' guys were after him. Knifed his captain, he said, and were going after him."  
>"Why?" I know that already. Tell me more.<br>"His captain was working for the govs. He brought them some info and govs didn't like it." Redd shrugged. "So they offed him".  
>"Do you know what was this info the… govs were so unhappy about?"<br>"Yeah… He said Arendellans didn't want to start a war with Weselton. That the entire case was a huge-ass misunderstanding."  
>Eric nodded, sour. This trip, he thought, was a waste of time. So what that they didn't want war? It happened anyway. But…<br>"Hey, and when did Sidney tell the govs about it?", he asked.  
>"Like… dunno. A week ago? Maybe more. Fry said it, but I don't remember."<br>"But before or after the army left?"  
>"Hm… before. Yes." Redd nodded fiercely. "I'm sure it was before."<br>Eric blinked, surprised. Before? What was going on? Sidney arrives to tell Hunter that Arendelle's new maneuvers are just a training and not declaration of war. Hunter then kills Sidney and tells Eric's father that Arendelle is moving to declare war. Sidney's first officer, Fry, runs off and hides at Drachner's place. Then Drachner orders to have him killed as well…  
>There was a scheme, Eric realized in shock, to start war between Arendelle and Weselton. And it succeeded. Who would want war? What would they make of it?<br>Drachner said that queen Elsa will be problematic for his business. But… a war? What for? And… If Drachner and Hunter were on it, was Margaret as well? As who, a liaison? And what was her profit? Or Hunter's for that matter?  
>I have to tell father about it, he thought. But… my word won't be enough to stop war. I have no proof except for Redd's words… And Hunter can always say that I paid Redd to say that, or just kill him to silence him.<br>Eric cursed silently. Something had to be done. Only he had no idea what could it be.

""""

_I hope you don't mind that it was a bit calmer, less action-ey chapter. But don't worry, in chapter 14 we're back to war and Berg's sneaky plan!_

_Wow, but I do like writing these author notes._


	14. Chapter 14: Best laid plans…

_Stone Streams  
><em>Something must be wrong with my sense of self-preservation, thought corporal Vincent Meyers, looking out from behind some rock. I've almost gotten myself killed the last time, he continued in his head, and now I'm back here? I must've been struck by the same madness that all officers fell to. Ha! He looked at himself with disdain and resumed the observation.  
>This time at least he didn't wander down the canyon, where every damn merchie musketeer could get a shot at him. Instead, he was up on the rock between two of them, slowly sneaking over Arendelle line. Well - he wasn't over the line <em>yet<em>. It was still below and in front of him and it looked even bigger than when Meyers fashioned himself into needle pillow. Of course it is, he thought, slowly laying on his belly and crawling on the least snowy path he could find. Seeing how ever since this cavalry failure the officers apparently did nothing except sitting on their asses, it was small wonder that merchies made themselves some proper barricades. In comparison, the previous ones seemed almost makeshift. What was wrong with Weselton officers?!  
>For a moment, Vincent shooed out those thoughts and focused on sneaking. It was late evening, when sun shone straight into merchies' eyes, outlining every shape. It wasn't the biggest problem, thought - the biggest was snow and ice on the rocks. It was terribly easy to kick down some of it by accident and it had been repeatedly proven that merchies didn't miss debris falling on their heads. In the beginning, scouts were chased away immediately, but recently merchies let them pass further and then attacked, making sure that nobody escaped.<p>

Sneaking was long and arduous work. Vincent crawled painfully slowly through snow and rock, holding his breath, hearing every creak of snow, every rustle of fabric, every heartbeat, as if it was cannon shot. Leg by leg, hand by hand, pulling himself forward so slowly, and so loudly… They sure must've heard me now, he thought at one moment. There's no way they're not ambushing me right now. The thought made him freeze and he slowly let out his breath, slooowly, slooowly looking around. He gulped, suddenly seeing crouched silhouette in this distinctive merchie scout hood, right to his left, maybe two meters further. You don't see me, he told enemy scout, pressing his face down, to the snow, hoping that his white uniform will hide him and that his gray boots are on the rock, not ice. You don't see me… He slowly took a breath, not daring to move. His heartbeat boomed in his head. Merchie must hear that, he thought. I'm making noise like a charging bull. But everything was oddly silent.  
>He didn't know how long did he stay like this. He tried to count his heartbeat, but let it go after hitting three thousand. Occasionally, he heard small creak of snow as merchie watchman changed his position a bit. Meyers didn't dare moving or rising his head. He felt his clothes slowly leaking as snow found his way to his skin. It was damn cold. I'll start shaking in a moment, thought Vincent. I'll start shaking and he'll hear me…<br>Snow started to creak again, this time louder and longer. He's standing up, Meyers thought, feeling a pang of panic. He must've seen me. He's coming with a knife to kill me. Vincent didn't dare move, though. Please, just go away… Yes. Yes, the sounds _were_ moving away…  
>"It's me!", he nearly jumped, hearing voice with merchie accent behind him.<br>"Sure! We can still shoot you, though!", somebody down in the canyon offered.  
>"Good luck trying, mudwalker!"<br>Right, he's just checking with the army down there, Vincent thought, so that they won't put a bullet in his back. He waited until he didn't hear the sound of boots and then rose his head, breathing with relief.  
>He blinked. It was dark already. I must've been kissing the snow for two hours at least, Vincent thought with surprise. Alright. Easier for me, right? Gotta move forward, if I go back, I'll sure bump into that scout… He resumed sneaking slowly. Streams became more steep and he was worried that he'd start sliding down, but apparently he had enough friction to stay in place.<p>

Finally he got to the point where he could see what's behind the enemy line. He cursed deep inside, seeing cannons, then stretched his neck, examining them closer. Alright, they might overshoot the Streams, but there's no way they'll hit our positions on Hight Table. So, danger for an incoming army, but not at the moment. He looked more. There seemed to be more soldiers roaming around by the torches, campfires and cooking hearths, chatting and eating. Meyers pitied that his position forbade him from pulling out his spyglass, but he was quite sure they had insignia of two different corps. So merchies got reinforcements, he thought, counting the soldiers. Damn it.  
>Hearing sounds, he pressed his head to the snow again. There were two pairs of boots coming his way. Please, don't step on me… He heard a conversation nearing him.<br>"…three. You'd think they have some unlimited source of scouts. Oh, I know! Some kind of a magic box that just keep on spawning them, all armed and ready to get themselves killed!"  
>"Thanks, now I won't be able to unsee it." The two men laughed and the second one continued, "But if they keep on losing them like that, they'll soon have no scouts left."<br>"Unless their entire army is scouts. It's Weasels, remember." They laughed again, passing by Vincent. Meyers gritted his teeth. Suddenly the steps stopped.  
>"What was that?", asked the first man.<br>"What?"  
>"I'd swear I've heard something."<br>Oh, no, thought Meyers. They'll find me in a moment. Any moment now… Any moment…  
>Suddenly a guitar started playing down in the canyon. He took a silent, deep breath, hearing a well-known melody drowning any noise he made, and thought a small prayer of thanks to the Almighty.<br>"Probably just mudwalker tuning up his guitar.", said the second man.  
>"He can't play for shit.", another one noticed and they resumed their walk.<br>Meyers took yet another deep breath and resumed sneaking. A few meters further wind in his back brought him another bit of conversation between the two men.  
>"…night shift. Why can't we ever stay up here all day instead of all night?"<br>"Don't worry. It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so I'd rather…"  
>Great. They'll be here all night. So I'm not coming back that way, Meyers thought, crawling forward and looking around, hearing sounds of night activity all around him. I've got to find some other way. If I stay here until morning, I'm as good as dead.<p>

_Unnamed valley  
><em>General Bjorn Berg looked around from atop his horse and nodded to himself. Fourth Corps were moving a bit slower now, but that was because they had to compress a bit into tighter column to move by the path he was leading them on. The slowdown was good for the men. They were entering the war zone. It was time to take some rest and be ready for the fighting.  
>"Alright!" He rode to his commanders, pitying yet again the loss of Kai whom he could send on errands. "Let's set camp for tonight! No point walking in the darkness, breaking legs and doing all other stupid things!"<br>They yessired him cheerfully and went to pass the information. Berg could almost sense the relief going through the column like ripples on the lake and smiled to himself. After a few days of forced march "creative whining about Berg" became Fourth Corps' favorite sport. Or so he thought. He wasn't sure, really. He _did_ miss Kai, who'd always share army news and rumor with him. Why couldn't you agree, he asked the major silently. Why did you have to stick to this stupid noble honor?

Camp was set rather quickly, especially compared to their first night in knee-deep snow. Horses, walked around, trampled the snow, making spaces for tents and campfires. There wasn't much wood around to burn with, but they still had some with them. Berg told them to burn all they wanted. The next night there'd be no fires. Somebody pulled out a banjo and general winced, then moved away. He hated the instrument.  
>He called the scouts commander to himself and they rode together to the entrance of small passage that was to lead them behind Weasels' lines. "Small" was relative, of course - it would definitely enable the army to move with some reasonable speed. It looked like a bigger canyon of Stone Streams, as if a river shaped it. Among Sami - mountaineers, Arendellans called them - it was known as Tampani trail, Twisty Throat trail. Seeing it with his own eyes, Berg couldn't help but agree that it looked like a giant throat. He leaned to the scout commander.<br>"Send your people up there", he ordered. "I want to make sure the trail is clear before we go there."  
>"Yes sir.", the man nodded and left, calling to his people.<br>Berg nodded to himself and looked again into darkness between the mountains. Well, let's hope it will go as good as planned.

_Stone Streams  
><em>Looking around, Meyers carefully slid down the wall onto the stonebed. He crouched quickly, feeling ridiculously exposed against the grey rock. At night, out of the snow, he could just as well have a target cross on his chest and back. But he couldn't go up any further - there were watchmen scanning the area carefully. He had to move out of sight.  
>And that, unfortunately, meant that he had to cross the camp.<br>In his head, he congratulated himself on choosing one of the northernmost paths down. There weren't much people there and he didn't have to sneak by the main bulk of the army. He still had no idea what to do after sunrise, but getting away from thousands of enemies seemed like a good start.  
>Less talking, more acting, he told himself, looking around. He landed near the latrine dug in ice, awfully smelly, enveloped in darkness and currently devoid of human activity. In some distance, people sat by the fires, looking at light. Hopefully, they were half-blinded and wouldn't notice one Weselton scout sneaking by. But first… he felt naked, taking off the hood of his jacket, but while the color of his uniform might let him pass as merchie scout, the shape of the hood was distinctive enough to out him as Weseltonian.<p>

Feeling his heart thumping in his chest again, he started to walk down. Chill, he told himself, lowering his head and pushing his hands into his pockets. Appear relaxed. Walk calmly. Not too fast. Not too slow. Keep your pace. Don't speed up. Slower. A bit slower… Control your breath. Step by step he came further down, between soldiers, watchmen and dozens of people that seemed to swarm him, talking, eating, joking, playing cards, listening to guitar and banjo playing together… He could almost hear among their voices somebody calling him and recognizing enemy in him. What if I meet an officer? Do I know how to do merchie salute? This is going to end so badly…  
>"Hey, scout boy!", somebody called him. He inhaled sharply. Don't snap your head up!, he told himself, nearly getting a heart attack. He looked up and to the left. There were few men sitting by the fire. One was looking at him.<br>Don't speak. They'll get you by your accent. He looked at the man and tilted his head quizzically. Soldier rose his flask.  
>"Wanna drink with us?"<br>No way in hell! He shook his head, then mocked yawning as a reason.  
>"Ha! Going to sleep with the sun?", man laughed and waved him to go. Vincent breathed with relief and passed him.<br>He got out of the Streams and into the camp proper. Soldiers of two corpses were talking together, fixing equipment, going in and out of tents, playing cards and observing the players. Meyers could smell food and felt his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten anything since just after midday.  
>Suddenly he nearly bumped into somebody. He rose his head and his heart stopped when he noticed scout uniform and captain insignia. I'm so much screwed…<br>"After service already?", officer asked.  
>Must stay silent… can't stay silent…<br>"Yes, sir.", he creaked, feeling his heart in his throat. Captain narrowed his eyes and looked at him more carefully. So dead, I'm so dead…  
>"Whoa, kid, you've spent way too long outside. You've got absolutely atrocious hoarseness. Go to the healer. You're out of service tomorrow."<br>"Thank you, sir.", he managed to creak out and both men went their way. I hope I'm going in the direction of healer tents, he thought, looking back. Fortunately, captain wasn't paying him any attention anymore. He breathed deeply with relief and then coughed. Well, I could use a healer, he told himself and broke into more purposeful pace.

Sneaking out wasn't all that hard. He found latrines - by smell - walked behind them, looked around and when no one was looking, fell to the snow and crawled out quickly, all the time expecting to hear sound of alarm and pursuit behind him. But nothing happened and he grinned to himself. Success!  
>He crawled for the next half an hour until he was sure he's out of range of watchmen and camps, then rose into crouch and scanned the area quickly. He cursed, seeing the trail he left. It's supposed to rain in the morning, he remembered. Maybe they won't notice… Hey, I'm officially the first soldier in this war to enter definitely Arendellan territory, he thought with slight grin. Yay for me, huh?<br>He stood up and run north, head low, under the cover of darkness.

_Tampani trail  
><em>Scout private Zoega run quickly up the twisty trail, looking to the sides and watching the stone walls of the passing carefully. He was to check if all is fine around, and so far, it seemed that Weasels had no idea about Tampani's existence. Good, he thought, general's plan seem to be going well.  
>He stood for a moment and looked at the ragged edges of the canyon. I wonder if I could get up there, he thought, then looked back at two scouts following him. Maybe not tonight… But it would be nice. The view from up there must be magnificent.<p>

The inspection of Tampani proven that indeed, there was nobody on the trail, and actually nobody in the part of High Table connected with the trail. Happy about it, general Berg sent the scouts to sneak up on Wesels and see what's up in enemy camp. He woke everybody else up by false dawn and when sun started to appear over the mountains, they were already on the trail, riding carefully. By scouts' reports, Berg estimated that they should make it on the High Table sometime after nightfall. Then they'd set for the night and get ready to move against Weasels by the next day. So far, it seemed to go seamlessly, apart from cold rain that started to fall shortly before midday and just didn't want to end, making everyone miserable.  
>Actually, such a good state of affairs started to worry Berg. It was going almost <em>too<em> well. No plan should go this far without problems on the way. General couldn't help nervousness creeping up on him. Something will go badly soon, he thought. No way this plan will go to the end without any problems.  
>He could think of a few - snowstorm scattering his forces, Weasels moving against him in strength, Weasels killing all of his man, Weasels ambushing him somehow… He looked up at the edges of the trail and looked at scout commander, who tried to cover his head better from the rain and failed at it.<br>"Do we have people up there?", general asked.  
>"Uhm… We will in a moment, sir.", the man answered.<p>

_Over the trail  
><em>Rain has finished a few minutes ago, leaving Meyers wet and shaking. Freezing, lying on the not-quite-melted snow, he looked at the army passing below with shock. So that's what they've been up to. They've found some path that wasn't on Weselton maps and were going to ambush Weseltonians. Their forces weren't all too impressive, that was sure, but with what they had they could ride the edges of camp like some guerrilla, or just pass the army altogether and go further west. They could ravage the countryside all they wanted, militia wouldn't stand a chance against them.  
>"Sneaky bastards", he hushed, then coughed in his sleeve. He really needed to see a healer.<br>He started to move away, sliding on wet rock and muddy rain-snow, intending to run to home camp and warn them, when he noticed movement to his right. He froze halfway, looking. A man in merchie scout uniform climbed up and looked around, then looked down.  
>"View is great!", he called.<br>"Back to work, Zoega!", was the answer.  
>"Yessir!", the scout said cheerfully and started to walk along the path. Right at Meyers. He cursed in his head. If the scout walked at him, even if Vincent managed to kill him, they'd be visible like actors on the stage. No way army wouldn't notice them. He started to crawl back as quickly as possible. Maybe he won't notice him… At least his uniform was covered in half-thawed snow as well, making him blend in…<br>"And what's that?", merchie murmured, walking away from the edge, towards Meyers. Vincent crawled back further, pulling out his knife and cursing in his head all the time. Alright, they're probably invisible from here…  
>Merchie was maybe three steps from him when he noticed Vincent. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth, but Meyers didn't let him scream. He darted forward, and pushed the man to the ground, covering his mouth and sitting on him. He rose his hand… for a moment he couldn't move, seeing terrified eyes and face younger than his. Then his training broke in. He brought the knife down on the throat, then again, blood gushed out of cut neck, spraying him on jacket and face, there was gurgle of escaping air and after a moment of absolute fear boy's eyes went blank.<br>Feeling blood slowly streaming down his face, he took a few deep breaths, shaking slightly. This was different than sniping men with a crossbow. Terrifyingly different. Right, man. Get yourself together. He looked around, waiting for shouts of alarm, but none came.

He spent the next two minutes covering the dead body and blood with mud-snow, then tried to get the blood off his face, but didn't succeed without hot water. He coughed a few times again and moved further away from the edge, then stood up and ran in direction the Weselton camp should be.

_Stone Streams  
><em>Captain Soren Nexø scanned quickly the N20, chewing on the sandwich. Nothing. Night was falling quickly, ending yet another day with some scout incidents, but no attacks. Not that he minded - he'd much rather it stayed that way and higher-ups worked out some diplomatic consensus to avoid killing more of Nexø's men - but it was suspicious. There were no talks of cease-fire, so why did Weasels act like this? Something was wrong. Only when would the hell break lose?  
>Night fell finally and men relaxed a bit. After the day-long rain the ice coating the Streams melted partially, but stone didn't get any less slippery - and now it was accompanied by water streaming down. Nobody would be trying to get down tonight, especially in the darkness…<br>Suddenly Nexø heard a sharp pang of crossbow chord and looked up at between the canyons. There was a scout standing up with his weapon out.  
>"What's that?", captain called. Scout didn't look at him, answering:<br>"Sorry! I thought I've seen… Oh, _shit_!"  
>"What is it?" Nexø grabbed his musket, standing up.<br>"They're going here!"  
>"Scouts?"<br>"Not scouts! Half of their damn army!", Scout crouched and frantically started getting down into canyon, looking up all the time. "They're attacking from between the canyons!"

"""""

_How's that for a cliffhanger? *grins* _


	15. Chapter 15: Anvil and hammer

_Stone Streams_

Nexø cursed, calling his men to arms and running to the wall of N20. They said no side could push the army through the in-betweens! So much for scouts' and higher-ups' predictions! Damn it, damn it, _damn it_!  
>He heard the first shots and screams of surprise, looking for foothold. Not just our in-between, he thought, trying to climb up. All of them. Hurry up, man, hurry up… he could almost hear the thumping of Weasels' boots on the rock. He finally grabbed the edge of a canyon and pulled himself up, then lay flat on the ground and looked to the right. In twilight it seemed like wall of shadow was moving in his direction. Still quite far, though. Still quite far…<br>He helped a man climbing from N19 and turned to help his own men to get on the in-between. Suddenly a bullet whizzed right past him and he fell to the ground, looking up. Not so far! He pulled out his musket and tried to pull the trigger, but stupid thing didn't take the snow well. To hell with it. He thrown it down and resumed helping his men. Then they took the pikes… He heard sickening splash of ripped flesh and man right in front of him fell to the ground, his arm missing. Nexø bent down in surprise and _BAANNNNG!_, suddenly all of his helmet was ringing when a bullet hit it. Thanks Supplies for the helmets, he thought, moving to the center of the in-between and looking upwards.  
>Why weren't they firing in a line? They had no officers, or what? In front of Nexø, his people collected themselves and tried to make a line with pikes. Soldiers cursed. Too slippery, Nexø realized, and too rocky for the line to actually make sense. We'll do more harm to ourselves than Weasels.<br>"Drop the pikes, draw the swords!", he ordered and heard clanks. "Musketeers, fire, then crossbows, then swords!"  
><em>BOOM!<em>, maybe half of the guns fired and smoke covered everything. Shooters dropped their muskets, then bang-bang-bang of crossbow fire and enemy boom-boom-boom and screams and blood and men fell, somebody screamed, everybody was screaming, body slid into the canyon, smoke deafened and blinded there were shadow there…  
>Deep breath, Nexø ordered himself and inhaled, feeling acidic taste of gunpowder in his lungs. Weasels were almost there, but they took them down, they took some of them down, good. Nexø drawn his sword and said:<br>"All right, men! Let's do it!"  
>And then Weasels hit them.<p>

It was madness. It was screaming, raving, bloody madness. Smoke and darkness covered everything, obfuscating faces and uniforms and the only rule was that man who attacked you was your enemy. Pathetic "line" of Arendelle was broken nearly immediately and everybody found themselves fighting with everybody. Nexø found himself in front of a screaming man with sword risen, so he pushed his own blade in his stomach and kicked him off the blade. The man slid down and two others took his place. He parried the cut, tried to attack one man, felt slash of hot on his cheek, bent, kicked, cut the other man, he parried, the first one was behind him, he gave him a huge kick, pushed him off the ground, the first one caught his hand and pulled, he lost balance, punched with his free hand, kicked the man between the legs, the other one grunted, pushed Nexø forward, captain lost his footing, grabbed the man and pulled him with him, turned sharply…  
>They hit the canyon with a crack and his enemy's eyes went blank, head turned oddly. Nexø took a deep breath and then panic hit him. What if he was attacked by his own man in this madness? He stood up, but no - red uniform, red uniform, good… He turned and looked up.<br>No way for him to climb back. Up there smoke cleared, revealing dozens of figures fighting, sometimes swords, sometimes knives, sometimes fists and teeth. They were pushed off the canyon, stabbed and they bled and died and around Nexø there were dozens of dead bodies in uniforms of both colors. He took a breath and…  
><em>BOOOM<em>  
>He jumped to the ground and looked back. Cannons? Why were cannons firing?!<br>_BOOOM  
><em> Cannonball flew over his head and he heard screams from forward… He turned there and felt like screaming himself. Weasels! They were pushing at them both ways! Deep breath. Deep breath… It stunk with blood. He crawled to the scout…  
><em>BOOOM<br>_"I need reinforcements here!", he screamed over the thunder of cannons, "Right now!"  
>Scout nodded and started to slide down quickly. Nexø looked up and froze in terror. The oncoming army looked like a horde, speeding down, despite cannons making huge holes in men and horses…<br>_BOOOM_  
>He slid under the canyon wall, among the bodies, I'm dead, he told himself, look dead, look dead, I'm dead… Endless cannonade started as they were running right past him, not paying him or the dead a second thought, battle still raged on the in-between and everywhere else, there was too many of them…<br>_BOOOM  
><em> Screams and horses and men falling and the endless thump of hooves and boots… Nexø nearly screamed, feeling his left hand exploding with pain and crack of broken bones, then again, when dead body fell on him, he went silent, Almighty, dead were heavy…  
>Finally the Weasels rode past him and Nexø took a deep breath, then pushed the body off himself. He looked at it and shivered. Arendellan, though Nexø didn't recognize the face. His hand ached.<br>_BOOOM  
><em>He crawled out of the bodies feeling sticky with blood and finding it hard to breath. He looked up and jumped to his feet when another body fell to the ground. Red uniform. Weasel. He looked up again and cheered a bit. There were no red uniforms left. His man turned to him, then somebody rose a crossbow.  
>"Heyeyeyey, it's me, it's me, don't kill me!", he screamed rising his head. Would-be shooter lowered his crossbow and looked at him with shock.<br>"Shit, sir! We're sorry!", another man said. "Your uniform turned all red!"  
>Nexø looked at himself and shrugged, then looked back up.<br>"How many of you are left?", he asked. "Jump down here!"  
>From Arendelle side he heard the sounds of battle. He looked at the breached defences and turned back to his men. About thirty were left, some of which had to be from N19. He gulped. He lost nearly half of them. I should've tried to stay up there, help them… He banished the thoughts.<br>"Weasels are on their merry way to massacre our camp.", he said to his men. "Somebody give me a sword, we're not letting that happen."  
>Man nodded, all grim.<br>"Sir, with your hand…?", somebody asked.  
>"I'm right-handed.", Nexø answered and took a sword from somebody. Then he waved and they went down, half-running, half-sliding.<p>

They hit Weasels from the back like a small hammer and the madness resumed.

_High Table_  
>Meyers coughed strongly enough to reel on his legs, then stopped and coughed a few more times. I feel like dying, he thought, slow and painful death. How far was this damn camp? It seemed like he was walking for ages now. He coughed again, feeling like he's about to spit out his own lungs, and resumed walk on the half-frozen water coated with half-melted ice coated in deep layer of almost-snow-but-still-water. He was freezing…<br>Finally he saw some figures in white. The couple approached him quickly.  
>"Identify yourself!", one called to him. Meyers recognized the voice and told Jenkins where he could stick it.<br>"Vince?", asked another scout, Thompson, in surprised voice. "Where the hell have you been?"  
>"In half of the damn mountains, I guess.", Meyers answered and coughed again. "Merchies found themselves a mountain passage to the north and are pushing through it."<br>"What? But… we're attacking them right now!", Jenkins said.  
>"Yeah, seems some of them didn't notice, 'cause they were sure as hell going here when I left them", he said and another cough nearly sent him to the ground.<p>

Half an hour later, he was in dry clothes, in the tent, next to the stove and with mug of hot tea in his hands. Felt like heaven. He finished making his report to the captain and the man leaned back, cursing.  
>"Right now, the entire army is in the Streams, fighting merchies", he said after a moment. "How soon you think those merchies in the north can attack us?"<br>"If they stop for the night? Sometime about midday."  
>Captain nodded, stood up and started walking in circles, tugging at his beard. Then he rushed suddenly out of the tent, leaving Meyers with his cup of tea. Vincent drank the rest and, feeling oddly relaxed, closed his eyes. He fell asleep in matter of moments.<p>

_Stone Streams_  
>Nexø felt both of his hands aching as he cut the man in the throat. Red uniform fell to the ground, gushing blood, and captain looked around frantically, looking for enemies. He heard the sounds of battle, but here… Here…<br>"We won?", the man - boy, really - next to him asked in shaky voice.  
>"I… I think so… At least here…"<br>He heard a sharp sound over the battle. Was it… bugles? Weasels? What were they calling?  
>A moment later another man jumped from between the tents.<br>"They're retreating! They're freakin' retreating!", he screamed and stopped, grinning like madman. Nexø nodded and noted the man's major insignia.  
>"What do we do then, sir?", he asked, panting heavily.<br>"We're organizing counter attack. You've got any of your man with you?"  
>"Give me a moment, sir.", he rose his head and called, "N-Twenty! N-Nineteen! To me!"<br>Crews of two canyons approached him quickly and he counted them. Twenty seven. He cursed. Somewhere, another three were dead or wounded so hard that they couldn't come. Major nodded.  
>"Follow me."<br>They came to square between the tent where people were grouping together, cleaning, rearming, tending to small injuries. There was about two hundred of them in total, although it was hard to be sure in torchlight. Major climbed on some create and people looked at him.  
>"Alright, how many of you can fight?"<br>Maybe ten people didn't raise their hands.  
>"Great! Weasels are moving back to their camp mainly through three canyons, N-Fifteen, S-Seven and Central! We're taking the N! Refresh, rearm and we're moving!"<br>They all agreed and Nexø turned to his men.  
>"How are you?"<br>"Will do, sir.", the closest one said. "We have to leave two guys with the doctors, but apart from that, we're ready to go."  
>Nexø nodded.<br>"Right. Take new crossbow bolts and crossbows if you lost them. Small chance we'll catch up with horsemen on foot."  
>"On ground like this? They'll all be sliding down."<br>"So will we."

They moved out moments later, armed and ready for payback, in what was a roughly orderly line, shooters first and then swordmen.  
><em>BOOOM<br>_ Cannon, silent for a long time, fired again, accompanied by another one.  
><em>BOOM<br>_ They fell into N15, wider and shallower than N20, and started to run up. There were bodies under their feet, under the walls, everywhere and ground was slippery with water and blood. Nexø helped one man up and was helped in turn when he nearly fell face-first to the ground. They soon saw the backs of Weasels in the darkness, trying to make their horses go up, abandoned by infantry. Crossbows shot and men screamed, leaving their horses and running. The chase was on and soon they caught up with slowest of Weasels. This time, though, it wasn't fight. It was slaughter.  
>After a few moments Nexø just pulled back and left his men to do the deed. He himself was staggering from exhaustion.<p>

_High Table  
><em> General Berg woke up to the watchmen's silent calls. Not of alarm, but simply of reveille. He slowly sat straight, feeling his muscles ache, and patted his horse's neck. In half-melted, slowly freezing snow after the rain the day before it was actually more comfortable to sleep in the saddle than on the ground.  
>Men moved quickly, eating cold breakfast and preparing themselves to leave. There were no complaints, only aura of alertness. They were about to strike and it was no time for slacking.<br>Drinking, Berg worried. They still couldn't find one of their scouts, but Weasels didn't attack them at night. Were they waiting for morning? Or maybe they had already destroyed Olafsen's army and were down the Streams, laughing at stupid, weak Arendellans? Or maybe scout simply made a mistake and killed himself? They were in the mountains, after all. Things happened.  
>No time to worry now, he told himself, putting back the canteen and looking around.<br>"Ready?", he asked his commanders. They all said yes, so the army moved out. They quickly spread out in fan-like manner and kept silent, then connected in smaller groups, each out of every other's sight. Everybody knew their orders. Berg himself stayed behind a bit. It was not general's job to lead the battles.

It was nearly midday when he saw smokes rising in distance. Weasels' army. Good. He stopped and waited, but stress soon creeped on him. He wanted to come closer, to see the battle, but there was just no way. On flat area like High Table coming any closer would be just asking for beheading with cannonball…  
>"Oh, screw it.", he said, kicking his horse and coming closer, reserve walking along with him.<br>He soon heard the screams of surprise and bangs of crossbows and muskets as his men attacked the camp from twenty places at once. Plan was simple - strike, do as much damage as possible in short term, retreat, go somewhere else, repeat. Berg called it "biting" in his head. Screams and shouts and larger columns of smoke as something was set on fire. Then louder bangs and booms and it seemed like the enemy was reacting, but Berg couldn't see anything. What was happening there?!, he asked, furious, rising spyglass to his eyes. I need to get closer! And I can't get closer, because I've got reserve with me… He growled, annoyed. He only saw the silhouettes of men fighting and something burning, but it was smoking heavily and he couldn't see anything. Then part of the men pulled back and another stayed in place, shooting at them. Some fell to the ground. Alright. Now to the next place, and bite again…

It was two hours of long torture as he could only guess by the movement of silhouettes what was going on. Finally he gave a sign to the trumpeter and he sounded retreat. The men returned sometime later, some leading horses without riders, some injured.  
>"Report.", Berg ordered. Colonel nearest him saluted and said:<br>"It went quite well, sir. They seem to have been expecting us but were spread rather thinly. We destroyed as much as we could, killed about three hundred's worth of people and set something on fire…"  
><em>BOOOOOM!<br>_ They nearly jumped, hearing the sound. Men turned, looking at Weasels' camp, which had just started to smoke stronger.  
>"…and I think it was close to their powder supplies.", colonel finished, grinning.<br>"Great! Good job, everybody!", Berg called so that everybody heard him. "Let's move back and regroup! We'll do a repeat in the evening!"  
>They cheered and began going back to their camping place. Berg called the camp cook to him.<br>"Get the men hot meal. No point in hiding from Weasels now."  
>"Yes sir", the man answered, accompanied by soldiers' cheers.<p>

_Weselton camp_  
>Meyers wasn't quite sure why he was standing in the corner of command tent, but he'd much rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else.<br>"What _the hell _was that?!", asked general Potter, clearly trying to kill the captain with his eyes only. He failed miserably and Meyers noted that captain clenched his fists behind his back.  
>"Why weren't your man patrolling the area to the north?!", Potter asked again.<br>When captain spoke, he was surprisingly civil.  
>"Sir, you have ordered me to focus on Stone Streams and army down there. If I may quote you, you've said that 'there's simply no way for merchies to attack from the north' and that I should 'stop panicking and focus on real threat'. That is exactly what I did."<br>"I haven't asked you for your opinion!", Potter snapped.  
>"I'm only giving you facts, sir. I would also like to notice that if not for one of my men, they'd take us completely by surprise."<br>"Oh, _sure_.", Potter growled and showed him the door. "Out!"  
>Captain saluted and left. Meyers followed him quickly, not wishing to be the next target of general's fury.<br>So our command is furious and arguing with each other, he thought, coughing. Great. Just great. He passed the burned-out remains of one powder stock. Soldiers with buckets were still trying to put out small fires. Stink of burn filled the air and Meyers winced, coughing again. Damn merchies.  
>He noticed the captain murmuring curses under his breath. Finally the man straightened and took a deep breath. He looked at Vincent with a faint smile.<br>"Don't worry. We've already made contact with general Windsor's scouts. He should be there in three or four days and…", he breathed deeply and lowered his voice.  
>"And maybe we'll have somebody <em>calmer<em> to lead us." He rose his voice again. "Not to mention soldiers, powder and ammunition."  
>"That's good, sir.", Vincent answered. "That's really good."<p> 


	16. Chapter 16: Fit of rage

_Koenigsberg  
><em> It was a stroke of luck.  
>Well, not entirely. Michael had made sure that he'd know what was happening before Friedrich did. Money was flowing smoothly and - funniest of all - it wasn't even his private money. Traditionally, King of the Isles paid his family a stipend to cover for their needs. So, as a matter of fact, Friedrich literally paid for betrayal of his own guards. Michael considered this to be delightful irony.<br>Of course, not everybody could be bought, like this annoying, stiff-necked captain Braun, whose unquestionable loyalty to Friedrich was a mystery Michael stopped trying to understand a while ago. The stroke of luck, then, was that Braun wasn't present when one Valdemar Schwalzmaar entered the guard post claiming that he had information about little Hans' whereabouts. The guard listened to the man and his wife and came to tell Michael about it. He received a nice sum of money (again, from stipend), and Michael thought what to do next.  
>Of course. He smiled slightly, looking at the guard.<br>"Tell those Schwalzmaars to wait for a moment and call captain Braun to interrogate them."  
>"Sir?" Guard seemed confident that information he brought should stay secret, which was stupid assumption to begin with. Michael sighed. He hated clarifying anything.<br>"I'd much appreciate if you could keep the captain busy for about an hour. Besides, how do you expect him _not to _learn about it sooner or later?"  
>"Uhm… Of course, prince. Right away."<br>The man left and Michael stood up from his chair. Somebody had to tell Friedrich about this oh-so-unfortunate development. No need to busy the captain, huh?  
>He knocked on the door and was let in a moment later. Friedrich was sitting with his daughter by the table, talking with her about something she drew. Annie laughed. He's spoiling her, Michael though with dismay. How would she be supposed to rule the Isles?<br>She won't, he reassured himself when Friedrich rose his head and looked at Michael with inquiry.  
>"Something happened?", he asked.<br>"Yes, you might say so. You may wish to talk about it in private."  
>Friedrich narrowed his eyes, but nodded and stood up.<br>"We'll come back to it later, Annie."  
>She waved them goodbye and they left. On their way to Friedrich's study - the one filled with cheap furniture - the king smiled to Michael.<br>"She recently got completely crazy about sailing, you know? Wishing to be… wait for it… navy princess."  
>Michael rose an eyebrow and noticed servants in the corridor next to him.<br>"Yeah, that's all we're missing, heiress to the throne imagining herself as _pirate princess_.", he said, a bit louder.  
>"I said 'navy princess'", Friedrich noted, "although I'm still not sure what it's supposed to mean. Give it a rest, Michael, she's ten. Still has time."<br>No, she doesn't.  
>They entered Friedrich suite and king showed Michael the chair. Both sat and prince started.<br>"We know where Hans is."  
>"Great! Where?"<br>"Take a wild guess."  
>"Michael, stop toying and just tell me, would you?"<br>"Westerguard."  
>As he expected, Friedrich was not happy about it.<br>"Westerguard.", he repeated slowly, slightly angry. "How did he get to Westerguard?!"  
>"Apparently he sneaked out on a merchant ship under false surname."<br>"Braun put watch in the port to prevent this."  
>"Apparently it wasn't good enough watch."<br>Michael didn't mention that Hans escaped before controls were established. Let's let Friedrich jump to his own conclusion. Michael was happy fanning the flames.  
>"Now, he's at Westerguard, and guess what? It's not like we've learned about it from your courier ships. It was actually the same merchant who took him. It tells something about state of affairs there."<br>"Maybe.", Friedrich was getting angry, that was sure.  
>"Yeah… I did learn some things about Westerguard, you see, and it seems we might have a huge problem."<br>"How so?"  
>"Weste folk loves Hans. It's seems he's the best that happened to them since the invention of fishing rod and that he's the best ruler they had in ages - for them at least. And they don't like you at all - thanks to Hans' scheming, I presume. He built himself a great powerbase, and it's a powerbase right in the middle of our most profitable trading route. Key point of that route, if I may add. Hans closes it and we're fried fish! Seeing how there seem to be few ships coming from the south recently, I'll make my guess and say he already done that. Nobody told you about it before?"<br>"Out.", Friedrich uttered through clenched teeth. "Out!"  
>He hit the table with a fist so strongly that it nearly cracked and Michael jumped to his feet and scrambled out of the room, his dignity be damned. You don't stay in a cage with pissed-off lion.<br>He closed the door behind him, and took a deep breath, rather feeling than hearing the _thump_ of fist hitting the door. Friedrich's cabinet was sound-proofed well. Michael nodded to himself, looked around and smiled slightly, then turned the key in the lock. He actually felt a bit insulted. He thought he'd have to work Friedrich more before his older brother - ha! Half-brother at most - snaps and starts raging.  
>He heard footsteps on the outside and put his game face on. A moment later, servant appeared. He looked at Michael and his eyes opened wider.<br>"Prince…?"  
>"I'm really sorry.", Michael said. "It seems he didn't take the news well. I'm not sure why - there wasn't anything awful about them. But, well…"<br>He shrugged.  
>"The king has a temper, prince.", servant said.<br>"Yeah, that he does.", Michael winced in dismay and left the door, murmuring to himself so that the servant could hear him. "We're going to be ruined if he'll react like that to every news …"  
>He left and started to pace the corridor back and forth. Outside, king's rage must had been already heard. Some servants passed and Michael answered they questioning stares casually, carefully playing down the cause of king's rage and making it seem petty at least. Let's make Friedrich look unhinged. Let's…<br>The princess was walking down the corridor with her notebook. Michael smiled to her pleasantly, feeling sudden rush of joy. Opportunity was too good to miss.

Friedrich nearly howled in rage, half blind in fury. _The bastard_! Double-faced schemer and traitor! He'll show him. He'll _murder him his bare hands and squish this f brain of his out of his dead damned skull_! He took what was under his hand and smashed it, feeling the momentarily relief at the sound of crack and destruction. Bastard! _Bastard_! He turned, hearing the door open, _how dare they enter?!_, he wanted to destroy…  
>He heard a scream. Not even the first one. A third or fourth scream. All too familiar scream his nightmares were full of. He looked at the face and froze in shock, unable to do anything.<br>Scream. It has to be a nightmare, barely-conscious part of him thought. It's a nightmare. It must be.  
>Annie screamed again, looking at him… In terror… Say something… He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but watch the huge bruises on her face, bleeding. They had to hurt terribly… Say something… It was me…<br>She run away from him and Friedrich slumped to the ground, unable to think. It just like in your nightmares, he thought. It must be another one…  
>But his mind didn't want to wake up and Friedrich just sat there, his only thought being that he nearly killed his own daughter.<p>

It was an infinity of hours before he heard a knock on suite's door.  
>"Go away.", he said simply, not bothering to rise his head.<br>"Honey, you have to come out of there soon, you know?", he heard his wife's voice.  
>"No. I'm a king. I can do whatever I damn well wish."<br>"We both know that's untrue."  
>He swallowed and looked at the door.<br>"How is she?" He feared the answer.  
>"Well, the doctor got a look at her and he says that she'll be fine after a while. She must've inherited endurance from you." Lisa was silent for a moment before adding, "She doesn't want to talk about what happened, though. Or mention you, for that matter."<br>"It's not like I don't deserve that."  
>He tried to banish the tears, but they just kept on flowing. He heard a hand hitting the door on the other side.<br>"Friedrich, what the hell happened?!"  
>"I don't know! I was in the middle of rage attack and she entered! Why hadn't anybody told her not to?!"<br>"They did! She must've thought you've finished already. Why didn't you lock the door?!"  
>"I…! I don't know. I thought I did. I don't remember. But I… I always do…"<br>"You didn't! She just opened, and you…" Lisa stopped.  
>"I don't know… I mean, I know what happened, I just…" He swallowed again. "I'm sorry."<br>"I know."  
>The two of them were silent for a while and then Lisa said:<br>"People are talking already."  
>"I guessed that much."<br>"I'd say their opinion about you just fell right to the ground and crashed."  
>Friedrich nodded, although Lisa couldn't see this.<br>"They were foreseeing something like this for years now.", he noted.  
>"Not all of them. Only the unhappy margin. But now that they were proven true…"<br>"They'll be listened to, I know."  
>He hid his face in his hands and clenched his teeth, trying not to think. To no avail.<br>"Friedrich, you have to come out of the room."  
>"I don't <em>want <em>to come out of the room." I don't want to see all this… stares. Whispers. He knew they'll be there. And Annie. Annie who didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk about him… He'd rather just stay there, and let the world keep on turning without him. Somebody else go and rule the Isles.

People were talking.  
>All around him, Kingsguards' captain Eduard Braun could hear the rumor mill turning. He was out of the uniform, of course - it was afternoon and his plans included having a drink. But that was one of the bad days, days when there was just no way for a Kingsguard to escape his job. So he took a swig of his beer and swallowed it, listening.<br>There were talks. Unpleasantly many I-told-you-so talks, and even more how-could-he talks. Braun tried to keep his head level, but even he asked himself how the king could do something like this. He… he pushed the thought aside and returned to listening. Old argument was brought up, that Friedrich might not be late king Klaus' son, this time with comment "so sure he's unfit for the throne! Can't you see it now?!". They praised prince Michael, who seemed to had weaseled himself into leading the circus while the king was absent. Dangerously many people agreed with this opinions. Another thought emerged - a new one, countering the previous, although not in a good sense. Everyone knew that Arendelle queen is a witch, right? She did something to prince Hans, after all, and there's this whole eternal winter thing! So… witches were messing with people's heads. What if she did something to the king? And the king wants to keep peace with Arendelle! Must be Witch Queen's influence. Yes, the king is ineligible to rule! On that point both sides agreed. Funny, Braun thought with sour mood, that we, priding ourselves on our disbelief in superstitions, are so ready to believe in them.  
>But what was the truth? Braun turned the glass in his hands, his bodyguard's mindset kicking in. King's door was opened for some reason. Princess entered the room without asking first, as if she didn't know he was in hot fury. But she <em>knew<em>. Servants told her. Then why did she enter? He couldn't ask - Annie didn't want to talk at all.  
>He took a huge gulp of beer and shut this part of his mind down, then paid and exited the pub just as the conversation between Witch Queen agenda and Bastard Son agenda was reaching its peak. Both sides argued in favor of the king going somewhere and never returning, and that didn't bid well for the future of Kingsguards' commander.<p>

_The Inner Sea_  
>This time, under the watchful eye of Stick, Anna ate half of the bowl's content. It was… slightly better than that oatmeal, but still, she refused to eat the rest, citing her "fragile aristocratic stomach". Stick obviously didn't like the explanation, but kept a facade of offended silence, taking the bowl with him outside. Anna stayed alone in the room.<br>Alright, she told herself, that would be a good moment to do something. She looked at her shackles. She had nothing to open them with - and it wasn't like she knew how to open shackles, either. But they were fixed to the wall - er, hull of the ship, and the hull was made of wood.

She leaned on the hull and tried to rip the shackles out of the wood. To no avail. After three or four times, the only result were aching ankles and hands.  
>She gave up and stood up, looking at the table Stick and Shorty usually sat by. Nothing that could help her. Well. She braced herself and tried to rip the shackles out of the hull again. And again, nothing.<br>Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she sat quickly and started to whistle, pretending that nothing was happening. She'd preferred it was Shorty - he seemed nicer - but no such luck: Stick came down, with a long and dirty rag in his hand. What, am I now supposed to clear the deck or what? Will I be unshackled, then?  
>And then what?<br>"Shut up.", Stick told her and she whistled for a few more seconds before going silent. "And don't move."  
>Before she realized what he's doing, he was putting a rag around her head, over her mouth, gagging her. She tried to wrestle and protest, but suddenly there was this giant hunting knife of his under her chin.<br>"I told you not to move, right?" He seemed angry, but then Stick always seemed angry. She nodded, very careful not to touch the knife.  
>He gagged her, tied her hands behind her back and went back to the stairs. Before climbing up, he turned and told her:<br>"And don't you dare moving anywhere!"  
>Like where, with my legs tied to the hull?, she tried to ask her, but through the gag the only sound was muffled yadda-yadda. He climbed back, leaving her alone again. She wanted to spit. The rag tasted of something disgusting. Maybe Stick cleaned his pots with it.<br>Why was she gagged?, she asked herself, standing up and trying to see anything upstairs. She could see only a thin line of blue sky, shadowed sometimes as somebody passed by the staircase. Maybe there was some other ship passing by and they needed to be sure her presence won't be known? Maybe if I could scream, they'd hear me…  
>And what? Before anybody would find her, she'd be already knifed by furious Stick. Not to mention that with a rag in her mouth, she was rather unlikely to be heard by anybody. What she could do, though… She felt the line her hands were tied with by her fingers. She <em>could<em> try unwrapping that.

She heard muffled shouts from the outside and pressed her head to the hull. There was some conversation going on, but she couldn't hear the details. And then…  
>She jumped away, hearing loud <em>BOOOM!<em>, what?! Was somebody firing, why?! Ship shook and Anna was sent to her feet, barely protecting herself with her hands. Stupid knot didn't want to untie and she tried to turn on her back to have more movement space.  
><em>BOOOM! CRACK!<em> Ship shook again and Anna heard shouts and screams upstairs. We're under attack, she thought. By good guys, bad guys? She cursed silently and then cheered as the rope on her hands finally loosened. She braced herself…  
>Just in time for a loud BOOM and deafening crack all around her that sent her to the floor again. Anna took a deep breath and looked behind her. The hull was cambered strangely, as if something tried to punch through it. Cannonball, idiot, don't dramatize. Wood creaked as if in agony. I just hope I'm over the waterline…<br>Wait. The shackles. She tried to rip them out again… Wood creaked… and again… CRAAACK! and she landed on the floor and suddenly there was water on her. She started to yell in panic when she realized it was just a wave. Blinking, Anna ripped the gag off her face and stood up. Free from the hull, she still had her legs connected to each other, so in short jump-steps she approached the staircase. There were more shouts now, clangs of metal and screams. She looked up, but saw nothing…  
>And then a body landed on the stairs and slid down. She jumped back, covering her mouth as she noticed half of the man's head being missing. No, she told herself, I'm not going up there. <em>No way<em>.  
>She retreated back into the cabin and started to look for something to defend herself with, hearing sounds of fight up on board. Saltwater was steadily leaking through the breached hull and when Anna reached the table, she was already ankles-deep in it. Oh, please, no. I don't want to drown. I don't want to drown… There was nothing on the table and chair was too heavy and cumbersome. Alright, think… The ship tilted suddenly and she nearly fell to her knees, grabbing the table leg. Alright. How about that?<br>A moment later she stood with a table leg in the shadow, looking from the entrance to steadily rising water and back. Sounds of fighting upstairs were dying slowly and it seemed like she'd miss the entire fight…  
>Three loud steps and Stick jumped into the cabin, his huge knife in his hand all covered in blood. He looked at the place she was supposed to be.<br>"You…!", he screamed, calling her names, and started to turn. Anna tightened her grip on the table leg and prepared to jump out and strike when another man got into the cabin, short sword in his hands. She assessed him quickly. Grey uniform with some insignia. Not a pirate, then, though she didn't recognize which navy he's from. He shouted at Stick, who turned around and prepared to attack…  
>That was the moment Anna chose. She took a huge swing, stepped out and hit Stick across his head. Navy man jumped, there was an audible <em>thump!<em>, and Stick staggered. She hit again and this time he fell to the ground.  
>"That's for threatening me, jerk.", she said, looking at him, and then rose her head. Grey uniform looked appalled, staring at her - or rather the table leg she held, still ready to swing it if need arose. She tried to ease the mood by smiling politely, but without much success.<br>"Uhm… are you alright, miss?", the man asked in crude Arendellan and she nearly froze, recognizing the accent.  
>Hans. Islander. Oh-kay. Alright. They weren't all Hanses, right?<br>"Yeah. Yep. Sure. Absolutely. I mean - you know, considering that I was kidnapped, gagged with dirty rag, shackled and that I'm now standing on slowly drowning ship - yeah, I'm pretty fine."  
>He just nodded.<p>

She was led on the board and swallowed, seeing the navy men disposing of the bodies, walking on all the blood the deck was coated in. Other people were leading captured members of the crew. Anna noticed Shorty, who seemed surprisingly clean and unhurt. Must've surrendered early, she decided. She drew some stares and people started to whisper, some even making jokes at the expense of man who led her, although she didn't know Islander well enough understand them. He didn't seem amused, though.  
>It took some time before they managed to unshackle her - it seemed like nobody could find the keys. Turned out, though, that there were few sailors with lock-picking experience - nobody questioned that - and so they got to work. Anna, seated on some crate, looked around. The ship didn't seem all that big, compared with merchant vessels that stopped at Arendelle port. It was small, really - especially compared with ship that assaulted it. <em>That<em> was a proper man-of-war. It almost towered over her kidnappers' ship, bristling with guns, flying the flag of the Kingdom of Southern Isles. The kind of man-of-war artists were painting, in suitably dramatic environment. It must be a pain, Anna thought, keeping it clean like that.  
>Seeing her watching the ship, the man whom she met downstairs said with obvious pride in his voice:<br>"_Northern Wind_. Won't find a better ship in all the Navy, miss!"  
>Anna nodded, not sure how to judge goodness of ships. Finally, with her legs free, she was led up the gangplank aboard the huge vessel. The difference was startling. Dear, they <em>do <em>must spend hours just making sure it's clean.  
>"We're introduce you to the captain, miss.", the man said. "We told him we found you. You're some nobility, right?" He looked a bit troubled. "'Cause that's what we told him."<br>"Don't worry, I am.", Anna said, looking curiously at the ship, guns, huge, now-sailless masts and men tending to them. She did draw stares. I wonder how long has it been since they last saw a woman, she thought with edge of worry.  
>She was so busy staring that she noticed the captain only after she already reached the bridge, or whatever it was called. He was talking with another man, his face turned away from her. He finished speaking, then turned around. Anna nearly stumbled.<br>He looked like older Hans.

The captain examined her for a moment before extending his hand and saying, endlessly polite:  
>"Miss, welcome aboard Royal Navy Ship <em>Northern Wind<em>. I'm captain Ferdinand von Schwalbe."  
>Von Schwalbe… must be one of Hans' brothers, Anna thought. Why, of all ships, I had to be rescued by the one that had one of this cold-hearted scumbag's brothers for a captain?!<br>Alright, girl, be civil. She shook his hand.  
>"Thank you, captain. It's pleasure to meet you.", she lied. "I'm Anna, Anna of Arendelle."<br>Prince Ferdinand froze, eyes wide and behind her, Anna heard mass "oooh…" of other sailors.

""""

_I hated writing first part of this chapter - especially Friedrich's POV. I hope my attitude didn't carry over to you._

_On more story-related note: King Friedrich isn't late king Klaus' son. His mother (Klaus' wife) had an affair, which lasted all the way to her death, accounting partly for Hans' massively numbered siblings. As girls can't inherit in the Isles, the real king should - theoretically - be Michael. However, Klaus stated in his last will that heir to his kingdom is Friedrich. So while "Bastard Son" agenda is well-based in facts, it's incorrect in stating that Friedrich isn't the rightful king.  
>That's just if you were curious about very, very minor plot point. ;) <em>


	17. Chapter 17: Diplomatic espionage

_Weselton  
><em> As the ship made its way into Weselton Bay, everybody on board was growing more and more tense. Despite the huge white-crossed-with-blue-line diplomatic mission banner flying over Arendelle flag and the fact that coastal batteries at the entrance to the bay all but ignored them, there were still many things Weseltonians could do to them, starting with arrest and ending with execution and sending them in bags back just to show the Queen what they think about peace proposition.  
>Standing on the ship's bow, Kai was looking at the giant cliff that separated the city of Weselton from the castle and royal port. His hand kept on rising to his hip, where his sword should be… and it wasn't. It was an odd feeling, almost like being naked.<br>He snorted and smiled to himself sourly. Couldn't he find some more _pleasant _things to think about? Sure, it wasn't like there were many of those. For the last five days it took them to reach Weselton, all he could think about was either war (which was scary), all thousand ways in which he could fail his current mission (which was terrifying) or the fact that his father wanted to arrange his marriage with the Queen (which was scary _and _terrifying). All in all, he felt like hiding somewhere and not going out for the next few years.  
>"Baron Madsen", he heard one of midshipmen's voice behind him, "the captain sends his regards and asks whether we should go to the city port or to the royal port."<br>And how did I land myself in charge of this expedition?, Kai asked himself, turning around. I'm, like, what? Five years older than this kid? Maybe six?  
>"Uhm… Tell the captain to go to the royal port. No need to make it all public without the king knowing."<br>"Of course, your grace." The midshipman bowed and left. Kai turned back to watch the port grow in his eyes, but he wasn't alone for long. Soon, Kristoff stood next to him, looking at the city without much joy.  
>"So", Kai asked, "what do you think, now that we're here?"<br>"I still say it's a bad idea.", Kristoff answered grumpily. "And I'd still rather have Sven with me."  
>"The reindeer? Come on, Kristoff. There's no place here for him and all the food he needs. Besides, how do you imagine it? Coming to a country we're at war with on a reindeer?"<br>"Oh, so Sven _is _a problem, but those two aren't?", the mountaineer asked, pointing at two "snow horses", as Anders called them, trotting beside the ship. Every time their hooves touched a wave, it turned into ice, enabling them to virtually walk on water.  
>"It's called power display. Besides, they don't take up space and don't need to eat."<br>"They're absolutely creepy."  
>Kai looked at them and tilted his head.<br>"No, they're not."  
>"You're saying that only because you're a hopeless horseman and these are some automatons."<br>"Maybe. But I do like that they'll never kick me, or throw me off, or trample me, or generally act like jerks towards me…"  
>"Yeah, yeah, sure." Kristoff just waved his hand. "Anyway, changing the subject: did you think about what to say to this king of Weselton when we actually meet him?"<br>"Uhm… 'Hello, I'm Kai, that's Kristoff, we'd like to negotiate the peace treaty to end the war between us'?"  
>„Well, when <em>I <em>suggested it, you said it wasn't diplomatic enough!"  
>"Well, I'll just… dress it into fancy words."<br>Kristoff glared at him but said nothing.  
>Soon, the ship passed the cliff end entered the tiny royal bay. His majesty must've been informed of their arrival, because he was waiting on horse by the pier, accompanied by another horseman. Kai resisted the urge to ask for a spyglass to see who the man is. He leaned out a bit.<br>"That's kind of unfair.", Kristoff noted.  
>"What is?"<br>"That they're waiting on horses while we'll get off the ship on foot."  
>"I think it's on purpose."<br>"Power display again?"  
>"Yeah, probably. To make us look and feel like a beggars coming to ask the mighty lord for his blessing." Kai was surprised at the edge of anger in his own voice. But - he was a baron, for Almighty's sake, not some backwards peasant from two centuries before!<br>Kai frowned and smiled faintly, looking at the snow horses.  
>"Power display, huh?"<p>

Sitting atop his horse, Eric looked at the Arendelle ship with mixed feelings. On one hand, it had the diplomacy banner on top of its mast, indicating that they might want to sue for peace. On the other, historically ships flying blue stripe on white field brought official declarations of war as well, and what Arendellans had in mind was nearly impossible to predict, looking at the fierce fights in the High Table.  
>The plateau had refrozen, giving everybody huge and more-or-less dry maneuver space. One of Arendelle armies had moved to the top of the Stone Streams, putting a tight cork on Weselton's most likely way of advance. Another one - largely understrength one, if reports were to be believed - was running rampant all across the High Table, killing few people there, blowing up this, destroying that and generally making the soldiers miserable. Good thing was that with general Windsor's arrival, general Potter's bled out forces could be relieved to chase after them, although so far, Arendellans in the Table had avoided heads-on battle, instead running away whenever Weseltonians came in musket distance. Surprisingly, they hadn't used the opportunity to get out of the High Table on the west side, which would allow them to raid all Weselton countryside, which just might had indicated that they didn't want it to be war of conquest, which was…<br>His thoughts stopped when he noticed a ship slowing down and turning a bit.  
>"And what are they doing?", he asked incredulously.<br>"Interesting question, isn't it?", his father answered. "What are those white things next to the ship?"  
>"I don't… what the hell?"<br>He still couldn't compose himself few minutes later, when two… snow… creatures, each bearing a man on its back, stepped off the water and on the pier. He finally managed to stop goggling when they halted in front of his father and the shorter man bowed a bit awkwardly.  
>"Good afternoon, your majesty. I'm baron Kai Madsen, and this is prince Kristoff Bjorgman. We'd like to negotiate the peace treaty to end the war between our nations."<br>His father nodded a tiny bit, still looking at snowy abominations. Almighty in heavens, Eric thought, doing just the same, those are real. This is real. Queen of Arendelle can create things like this.  
>He almost swallowed, looking at horse-like things and imagining an entire regiment of them advancing on the Weselton bay, preparing to strike the city itself. With entire bay frozen, so that the navy won't be able to react. And… who knows what their queen could do to the guns.<br>They want to negotiate peace, he thought with a bit of chilly relief. We better agree, because otherwise…  
>We are so dead.<p>

"_Prince_ Kristoff?", the mountaineer asked Kai in hushed tone after the diplomatic greetings, as the king and the crown prince were leading them into the castle, glancing at snow horses.  
>"You are Anna's betrothed.", Kai noted.<br>"Am I?"  
>"Let's say so."<br>They arrived in the courtyard. Servants were obviously freaked out by their steeds, so Kai just told them to "let them stand somewhere - they don't need anything". He noticed worry on the face of crown prince, a man few years older than him with round glasses that gave him academic aura. His father, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by un-living, walking proof of magic. If anything, he appeared more annoyed with the Arendellans.  
>They entered the castle and sat in tastefully decorated living room that reminded Kai of his family house on Madsen island. They were served drinks and the king started:<br>"As I understand, her majesty queen Elsa decided to end this war." His tone seemed a bit harsh, Kai noticed with flash of worry. "May I asked why change her mind when it was Arendelle forces that attacked us first?"  
>Kai allowed himself one blink and looked at the king in inquiry.<br>"Excuse me, but… I'm afraid Her Majesty… doesn't share your point of view. Weselton army had been aggressively scouting the Stone Streams for days before the first shots were fired - by Weselton forces, I'd like to notice…"  
>The king didn't seem convinced.<br>"Then may I ask why was one of your armies camping right at our border?"  
>Kai felt like swallowing. He didn't let it show, though - his father had a lot to say about keeping a poker face during negotiations.<br>"We usually chose this area for our summer maneuvers. I would also like to notice that there is quite a distance between the bottom of Stone Streams and the Weselton border.", he said, his voice somehow not shaking. "I am aware that there is a huge possibility of… tensions rising when two armies camp on the border. I cannot, however, understand why, instead of sending a proper diplomatic message explaining your presence in the High Table, your commander decided to attack us, starting the current conflict without so much as a formal declaration of war."  
>He took a breath, watching the king's reaction. The man still seemed to regard Kai in rather unfriendly way.<br>"General Potter would not be forced to act if not for an… unfortunate incident between scouts of both nations. While I do agree that presence of both armies at the border can cause tensions such as the one that led to this incident, I believe you'll agree when I say that following the so-called Great Freeze and your queen cutting all diplomatic agreements with Weselton, we were right to feel threatened."  
>"Perhaps." Kai agreed, feeling a chill going down his spine. "The actions of the Duke were not what one would call… easily forgettable or insignificant, though, and so far, your majesty, we have received no answer from you regarding this, or even any sort of condemnation of Duke for a planned regicide. Our Queen put it clearly in her message that the trade contacts and diplomatic relations would be resumed when the justice was served. No such thing happened."<br>"Which is way you've decided to start… ah, maneuvering at our border?"  
>And so it went.<p>

It was late evening when they went down to check if ship's crew is all right and returned to find out that castle staff arranged for a room for them. Sitting in and eating a long overdue dinner, Kristoff noticed:  
>"It didn't seem to have gone well."<br>"Nah… although I'm not sure. I didn't really expect to wrap this all up on our first day here. Besides, they didn't arrest us, kick us out or anything, so…" Kai shrugged.  
>"Right… Of course, there is this matter that we're now closed in the room that's probably guarded. Not by our people, too."<br>Kai blinked, uninterested in food, with his chin on the table, drumming on the fine, lacquered wood.  
>"Yes. Right. But they didn't arrest us <em>officially<em>. Anyway, I can guess what the king is doing."  
>Kristoff swallowed a piece of sandwich before asking:<br>"Oh? So, what is it?"  
>"He's trying to stress us out so that when he finally says he agrees for peace, we'll be so happy that we'll agree for his terms without any resistance."<br>Kristoff nodded.  
>"Tricky of him."<br>"Yeah. And he _is _stressing me out." He rubbed his temples and returned to drumming. "We're supposed to deal with all this quickly, Kristoff! Preferably before even more people die or some… overzealous general like… Kristiani" He couldn't say 'Berg'. "will decide to go and invade Weselton, or the other way 'round!"  
>"Alright, calm down." Kristoff bit off another chunk of sandwich and swallowed it before continuing. "You said it yourself - it's not like we could wrap it up on our first day. Maybe try to find some way around the king?"<br>"Like what?"  
>"Dunno - talking to his son, maybe? I looked at him when you were having your verbal sparring with the king and… well, he kind of seemed terrified by his father not signing the peace treaty there and then."<br>Kai raised his head with interest. Yes, perhaps prince Eric could convince his father to stop playing around and just sing the peace treaty. Only…  
>"How would we get to him? And how can we be sure that his father would listen to him at all?"<br>Kristoff's enthusiasm seemed to have disappeared.  
>"Well… I don't know, really."<br>There's got to be some way, Kai thought. He looked at the window. Then at Kristoff. Then at the window again.  
>"You know, I actually do have an idea how we can find out about this."<p>

"This", Kristoff said, crouching on the wide windowsill, "is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever participated in."  
>"Does this account for your and Anna's chase of the Queen during the Great Freeze?", Kai answered quietly.<br>Kristoff grunted.  
>"At least I was in a familiar terrain there."<br>"Come on, you're a mountaineer! You know how to climb!"  
>"A mountain. Not a wall."<br>"With how worn down those stones seem, I'd hazard a guess that this is actually going to be easier than mountain climbing."  
>Kristoff just snorted, recognizing a situation in which the discussion would be futile. Besides, they <em>did <em>need information, and such an exercise in stupidity like this would be a good distraction from more worrying matters, like Anna's absence…  
>Don't think about it now, he decided, catching a windowsill and slowly looking for a foothold with his right leg. Or would you rather fall four floors and an entire cliff down?<br>"You need help?", Kai asked.  
>"Yes. Stop distracting me."<br>"Uhm, sorry."  
>Kai disappeared back in their room and Kristoff started to descend slowly, trying not to think about the sea hitting the cliffs many, many feet below. He had to admit - grudgingly, but he had to - that Kai was right in one regard: castle walls, made of huge stone blocks glued together with cement and worn down by two or so hundred years, provided <em>much <em>better foot- and handholds than vertical mountain slopes. He quickly made his way two floors down, happy that castle guard hadn't seen it fit to put a watch at the sea-facing side of the royal residence.  
>He silently thanked old Madsen for providing him with plenty of information about castle layout. He reminded himself once again which windows belonged to royal family's private apartment and descended, simultaneously going a bit to the side.<br>He climbed down quickly and then listened by three or four windows before finally finding the one behind which voices could be heard. He came as close to the glass as he let himself without being seen and listened.  
>"…ridiculous, father! Are you actually going to play all these tricks with Arendellans?! Didn't you see how they <em>arrived <em>here? It's suicidal!"  
>"Don't be ridiculous yourself, Eric. If queen Elsa really wanted to beat us, she'd send a winter at us instead of two younglings on those absurd parodies of horses. She's young, Eric, and she held power for barely three months now, not to mention that she ridiculed herself just hours after her coronation! And now this! Instead of crushing us, she wants to negotiate? If she had a nerve to do it, she'd blow away Windsor and Potter from the High Table days ago! She's clearly unsure of herself and we can exploit that to completely renegotiate the trade arrangements!"<br>Well, buddy, you might be just a _tad _mistaken about Elsa, Kristoff thought, smiling sourly in the shadow. Prince Eric apparently didn't think much about his father's analysis as well.  
>" 'Trade arrangements'? What 'trade arrangements', father? Did you forget that they don't exist anymore? She basically blown them into oblivion right after uncle Andrew tried to have her murdered!"<br>"And that gives us opportunity to renegotiate them, Eric."  
>"And you really believe we're going to end up better off than we were before her coronation?" Eric sounded as doubtful about it as Kristoff felt.<br>"Of course we are! Can't you see how indecisive she is? First she cuts off all diplomatic contacts, now she wants us to be diplomatic again. First she puts her army right on our border, now she says 'it's not us who started a war, we want to end it!' Please. She changes her mind like one changes shoes!"  
>There was a moment of silence for a while before Eric said carefully:<br>"I am actually willing to believe baron Madsen when he says that Arendelle didn't want war."  
>"Oh, really. Where were you when colonel Hunter briefed us on how they're aggressively pressing <em>towards <em>war?"  
>We were doing <em>what how<em>?, Kristoff asked in surprise.  
>"What if I had some information that Hunter was misleading us?"<br>"You have any proof of that?"  
>A moment of silence.<br>"Not a tangible one."  
>"That's what I thought. What even made you think that, Eric? Why would our own intelligence chief lie to us about Arendelle's attitudes?"<br>"Uhm… to start a war?"  
>"And how exactly does he profit from it?"<br>Another moment of clearly uncomfortable silence. And then:  
>"I… am not sure."<br>"Then stop speaking like real life was some poorly-written spy fiction. So far, I have seen no proof that colonel Hunter is anything else than a dedicated and good spymaster. And that's the end of this discussion for today, Eric!"  
>"But father…"<br>"The end, I said!"  
>After a while, Kristoff heard the sound of closed door. Well, that was interesting. Did the prince really have some proof of what he was saying? And where did this Hunter guy get the idea that Arendelle wants war? And does the king really think Elsa's <em>weak<em>? The notion was absurd… but then, on the other hand, not many people seen her firsthand dealing with Duke's thugs, or her actions after the Great Freeze was over. Well, everything's a matter of perspective, huh?  
>He heard the footsteps approaching the window and moved back up before prince Eric could look out and spot him dangling out of his window. His fingers started to get a bit numb… He climbed a floor higher and started to move to the side. Halfway through, he heard a muffled sound from behind the next window. He leaned closer, recognized them for what they were, and peaked in in surprise.<p>

In their room, Kai was getting nervous. He left the window open, just in case, and now paced from corner to corner, trying not to look outside. In the darkness of night, he'd have to have hawk's eyes to see Kristoff on the castle wall.  
>He was still nervous and nearly jumped every time he heard a clash of waves on the stone. He could easily imagine dozens of things that could go wrong, starting with Kristoff losing his grip and falling into faraway, ice cold sea and ending with Kristoff being discovered and dragged for arrest. What would I do then?, he asked himself, turning and going back across the room. How to explain his absence? And what if I get arrested too? Should I resist? Should I let them throw me into prison?<br>He actually jumped when he heard a sharp knock on the door. Oh Almighty they came to arrest me they found Kristoff and now they'll arrest us all and execute us for spying and we've failed and this war won't be stopped oh Almighty I was such an idiot…  
>He took a deep breath, putting down his attack of panic. Calm. Appear calm and composed. Nothing's happening. If they asked, Kristoff is… in the toilet or something. Kai jumped to the window and slid the curtains to cover it, then jumped back to the door. He opened and saw a small clerk in tiny round glasses.<br>"Baron Madsen? I'm Jeremiah Lee. May I enter?"  
>"Uhm… sure, I guess?" The man's command of Arendellan was near perfect, even accented in the way most Weseltonians never managed. Kai let him in and closed the doors. Lee looked around before saying:<br>"I'd like to inform you that there are actually three listening holes in the room. Don't worry, though - on three out of four watches it's our people who listen. I would, however, advise you not to talk about delicate matters between midday and four o'clock."  
>Kai blinked, unsure of what he just heard.<br>"Excuse me? Listening holes? Our people? What?"  
>"Oh, yes. I'm sorry, your grace. I thought you were informed about this. I'm one of the people in this castle who work for your father."<br>"For my father…" Kai frowned, then nodded, sudden understanding flushing over him. His father was Arendelle's Royal Spymaster. He had to have his agents on Weselton court and Jeremiah Lee was one of them.  
>"Right. I'm sorry, mister Lee. I wasn't given any information regarding this."<br>"It's not a problem, your grace. That is why I approached you."  
>So we didn't have to send Kristoff down there after all, Kai thought, sitting down on an armchair. He's going to be so angry about it…<br>"Feel free to take a sit, mister Lee. Could you please tell me something about the general… atmosphere in the court?"  
>"Of course." The clerk sat down in another armchair and said:<br>"I'd say many people are rather… distressed by a current situation. Alongside the war going not exactly as they'd like it to, there's a lingering fear of Her Majesty's… violent answer to Weselton's aggression. Because of this, royal court is divided into those who'd rather Weselton became more active and outright invade Arendelle, and those who'd prefer the army to return to the capital. Sadly, your presence here might be… weakening for the peaceful faction, as the Queen's wrath failed to present itself."  
>Kai cursed under his breath. Her Majesty preferred not to act too aggressively - but it seemed like it could be the best option.<br>"I presume the king sides with warlike faction."  
>"Yes, you are right. The prince, however, seems to be more in favour of peaceful outcome, although he hadn't officially sided with - or even acknowledged the existence of - peace faction. There's also the fact that many of those who'd prefer peace were king's… enemies in previous court conflicts, which makes his majesty unlikely to listen to them. Not to mention that significant part of the court is worried about the tension between the king and his heir."<br>Nothing like falling right into hornets' nest, Kai thought sourly. On the other hand, at least I know that we should try talking with prince Eric, even though his chances to convince his father seem low.  
>"That's… interesting news. Is there anything else?"<br>"Yes, you might say so. Significant part of the court is unsatisfied with how current conflict gave more influence to one colonel Hunter."  
>Kai's memory quickly revised his father's "Who's Who In Weselton Court".<br>"Royal spymaster?"  
>"Indeed. It seems like he was the one who informed the king of Arendellan presence on the border and apparently the king believes that it's only because of Hunter's vigilance that Weselton managed to avoid this war to become straight-out conquest by Arendelle."<br>Right into the hornets' nest…  
>"Ah… so he's unlikely to admit that we weren't planning any invasion?"<br>"Definitely, your grace… oh?"  
>The last word was caused by a rustle of curtains. A moment later, Kristoff emerged from behind them.<br>"I'm ba… wait, who's that guy?"  
>"Mister Lee here is father's agent in the castle."<br>"Oh. Cool. Kristoff. Nice to meet you. Kai, can I have a look at this 'Who's Who' book again? I want to check something."  
>"Yeah, sure."<br>Kai passed him the book with sketches and Kristoff flipped through it.  
>"I knew it", he murmured and raised his head. "Well, people, I'm not sure if you're gonna like that, but… Her grace princess Margaret von Schwalbe, prince Eric's wife, is having an affair with colonel Glenn Hunter, royal spymaster. A serious affair, I'd like to add."<br>Kai slid down in his armchair, staring at Kristoff in disbelief.  
><em>Riiiight <em>into the hornets' nest.


	18. Chapter 18: En route

_Unnamed valley  
><em> It was early afternoon and sunlight was shining in through the open entrance to general Olafsen's command tent - or rather pavilion. Two men sat on the folded chairs by the table, whose surface was invisible under all the things that covered it. Majority was taken up by a huge map showing the area of Stone Streams, High Table and their valley (whose lack of name was becoming increasingly annoying). It was full of blue, green and red pins - blue for Arendelle units, green for Weasels' units and red for places where the two made contact. The entire area of Stone Streams looked like a sword slashed it across, leaving long, blood-red cut.  
>The rest of the table was covered by scout and unit reports, number tables, messages from general Berg, a jug half-full of warm tea and a glass filled with the liquid from the jug.<br>"So…", started general Kristiani, nursing his own cup in his hands, "they chickened out and left for High Table again?"  
>"Or perhaps Bjorn's scheme worked.", Olafsen answered, looking at green pins. "On the other hand, he reported them being reinforced. By general Windsor, at that. How did Hakan describe him again?"<br>"Old Madsen? Something along the line of 'ice-cold, sneaky bastard', I think." Rasmus winced. "Yeah… I can see your point. They didn't really chicken out, did they?"  
>"Well… Potter could've, judging by what we know of him, especially since his glamorous plan to invade us through the in-betweens failed."<br>"It might've succeeded if Bjorn hadn't appeared at the right moment."  
>"I'm not saying that Potter is an idiot." Olafsen chuckled. "Well, he still can be, but if you apply big enough hammer, it doesn't really matter what the size of your brain is."<br>Kristiani snorted in amusement and refilled his glass. A moment later, though, he became more sober.  
>"With Windsor and his army, he has an even bigger hammer in his hands.", he noticed, looking at the map. "Why haven't he attacked yet, then?"<br>"That's what I'm worried about", Jens said, taking a drink. "They _do _scout us aggressively", he added, moving his pointed finger over the line of red pins, "but they don't do anything along the lines of headlong assaults Potter seems to delight in."  
>"Perhaps they're still busy chasing Bjorn all over the High Table."<br>"Perhaps. But they must realize that he's almost out of food, ammunition and feed for his horses. Soon he'll have to return here, or he'll be stuck up there completely out of supplies."  
>Kristiani bit his lip and stood up, laying his elbows on the table and putting his chin on his hands. He examined the map and red pins.<br>"There seems to be more of them in the 'S' canyons.", he noticed. "Meaning that they'll either strike there the moment Bjorn stops being a problem…"  
>"…or they'll move to the north.", Jens finished, looking at northern canyons. He scratched his chin and added, "A lot depends on who's actually in charge, really. If it was Potter, I'd guess he really is planning to move against 'S's, in some sort of focused attack. On the other hand, if it's Windsor, my bets would be on 'N's."<br>"Not necessarily.", Rasmus said, looking more to the north of the map.  
>"Why?"<br>Kristiani narrowed his eyes. After a moment, he put a pointed finger on a small, twisty passage labeled as 'Tampani Trail'.  
>"If we did it, why can't they? Sneakiness isn't just Bjorn's virtue, after all."<p>

They were pulling them out of Stone Streams. To his own surprise, captain Soren Nexø still couldn't wrap his head around it. After the sloping, narrow, ice-covered stone canyons, hilly and horizontal planes of home valley seemed flat, endless and blindingly white. He wasn't the only person constantly blinking as his division was moving northward, away from the Streams and further into the snow.  
>The generals had said that it's about time the units that had spent the entire war so far on the front lines were moved to the back, and fresher, more rested units take their place. Nexø could understand that - and was fairly thankful for it, too - but he expected his unit to be moved to the south, where the Weasels were probing their positions. Instead, they were moving north, which was sort of in the opposite direction.<br>Finally his curiosity got better of him. He kicked his horse - he had a _horse _now, complete redundancy in the Streams - into trot and rode up to his battalion commander, the major who rallied them during the hellish night of in-betweens' attacks. When the man noticed him, Nexø saluted.  
>"Sir, if I may… Why are we moving north instead of south?"<br>The major tugged at his mustache with surprised expression.  
>"Haven't I told you? Oh… Right, I think I didn't. Well." He shrugged. "I can just do it now."<br>He told him briefly about the Tampani trail and finished with stating:  
>"So, the generals want us to stay there and block it in case Weasels got adventurous and tried to invade us from here. Well… let them try! We'll see how adventurous they'll feel after that!"<br>Major grinned and Nexø felt his own lips curl up with something like a smile. He thanked, saluted and rode back to his unit.  
>"So, high-sir-on-the-horse", one of his unit's lieutenants said jokingly, "what's the plan?"<br>"Oh, we're going to do pretty much the same we did before.", Nexø answered, shrugging. "Only on a much bigger scale."  
>"Hell… no variety here.", another man murmured loudly. " 'Go to the army!', they said. 'You'll see <em>all <em>the damn world!', they said." He cursed and added, "Sure, I'm gonna see all the damn stony, icy canyons the world has to offer."  
>A few people chuckled after that. Nexø, again, found himself hard-pressed for a genuine smile.<p>

_High Table_  
>There was a distinct smell of burned things hanging in the air, and the wind blowing from the camp made it even stronger. With it, clouds were slowly drifting north and weatherwatchers claimed that they'll bring snow with them over the next few days. A lot of snow - a snowstorm, some claimed. Vincent Meyers found it hard to judge whether or not that's good. On one hand, it may finally chase the merchie raiders off the High Table. On the other, it was unlikely that the captain would stop sending out scout parties, and Meyers wasn't really looking forward to going out into snowstorm.<br>I shouldn't look forward to going out there at all, he noted with a sour frown. What am I doing out of the camp, anyway? He coughed. I should've asked for a week off or something, he told himself, patting a back of a mountain horse he was riding on. He was given a horse - a pony, really - mostly to keep up with cavalry regiment he was scouting for today. It wasn't very glamorous animal, especially compared with cavalry mounts, but after those mounts performing miserably in the Streams, nobody snickered at the unimposing pony.  
>Deep in thoughts, Meyers halted his horse for a moment and looked back. Here the floor of the valley was steadily rising, slowly turning into mountain slopes, giving the scout a magnificent view at the plateau. He could see a cluster of darker, moving spots where the cavalry was riding to find and intercept any merchie units. So far, they didn't have much luck with that. Freakin' merchies seemed to appear, set fire, ride away and then disappear into thin air. Over the past few days Weselton army had become increasingly more proficient in repelling the attacks, but the situation still wasn't what one could call satisfying.<br>Which is why you're here, he reminded himself, gave his mind a mental kick and rushed the horse to go further. In his white uniform and horse's white coat they looked like a barely visible shadow on the snow.

Sun started to touch the mountaintops when Meyers realized that he recognizes the landscape around him. He slowly got off the horse and looked around, then grinned and air-punched, causing the horse to step back a bit. Vincent patted the animal on its mouth.  
>"Don't worry, buddy, that's a good news!", he said quietly. "I finally found the path the merchies used to get there!"<br>In front and a few dozen meters under him, the trail stood open, with only a few soldiers in merchie uniforms keeping guard. They didn't look up and didn't notice Meyers as he mounted up and quickly got off their sight.

"Here, you say?", the captain asked a few hours later, leaning over the map stretched on the table in his tent. It was past dawn already and the only source of light was a couple of oil lamps put on the corners of the table to keep the map in place. Apart from captain and Meyers, there were three more people, all lieutenants, in the tent.  
>Meyers coughed and sneezed in his handkerchief.<br>"Sorry, sir. Yes, it's here." He decidedly put his finger on a specific point of High Table's edge, way into the area that had been scouted only briefly when the army first arrived, as per the orders of general Potter. "They put a watch at the entrance, but - pardon my language, sir - it's a pretty shitty watch. Didn't notice me at all."  
>The gathered men smiled a bit on this comment. Captain took a quill and put a mark on the map where Meyers had pointed. Then he nodded and looked at his men.<br>"Alright, people. Gary, send some of your men for a detailed scouting of the area corporal Meyers pointed. I want to know everything in case the generals asked me about this. The rest of you, update your maps. Meyers, with me."  
>A couple of yessirs later the captain left, followed closely by Meyers, who coughed again, feeling a sneeze coming up. He stopped for a moment, sneezed and run up to the captain, gripping the folded map in his hands stronger.<br>"Remind me to take you off duty for some time.", the captain said. "I'd rather you were in a good shape when we'll be pushing through this trail."  
>"Yes, sir. Thank you." Vincent swallowed and added, "If I may ask - where are we going?"<br>"Command. General Windsor has been looking for a way to attack the Arendellans for the last few days. It's about time we gave it to him."  
>Easier said than done. When they approached the command tent, they heard shouts from the inside. They were muffled, but voices were recognizable. General Potter and general Windsor. Again?, Meyers thought. You'd think they do nothing but sit there and argue! He sighed and noticed the captain rolling his eyes in exasperation.<br>Two generals' aides were sitting on the crates in front of the tent's entrance. They seemed to be on much better terms than their superiors, playing cards by the lamplight with extreme boredom on their faces. When they noticed the two scouts approaching, the one with Potter's distinctions stood up.  
>"Yes, captain?", he asked, still keeping his cards in his hands. "How can I help you?"<br>"We have some information that might be useful for the generals.", the captain answered, overlooking the breaches of protocol. "You think they'll be… responsive in the next few minutes?"  
>"Hard to say, sir.", the man answered an turned to his companion, who shrugged and collected the cards.<br>"If it's serious, we can try, sir.", he said.  
>"I'd be glad."<br>It took a while, but after a few minutes the two of them were let in. Vincent felt uncomfortable, like between two rows of cannons ready to shoot at each other. Two generals stood on the opposite sides of huge, paperwork-filled table, eyeing each other unfriendly, with dislike on Potter's face and disdain on Windsor's. The latter was clutching his wine-filled glass so tightly that Meyers was sure poor thing was bound to break into shards and fall any moment now. The former had his hands clenched into fists and pressed into table, with rather destroyed papers visible between the fingers. Meyers glanced at the documents spread on the table. Supply data and quartermaster's reports. Are we in bad shape? He didn't manage to read, because two officers turned to him and he saluted.  
>"Sirs.", he barked.<br>"At ease." The order might be near-growled, but general Windsor was certainly trying to be civil. He looked at the captain.  
>"What is this 'important information' you've brought?"<br>"Sir, we've found a path the Arendellans have pushed their raiding parties through."  
>"About damn time.", Potter said, slowly unclenching his fists. Pieces of ripped paper fell from them and he shoved them on the ground. "Where?"<br>The captain nodded to Vincent, who spread the map over the papers. The captain pointed at the ink dot.  
>"There, sirs."<br>They both nodded. General Windsor looked at Meyers, who felt himself uncomfortably out of his depth.  
>"I presume it's you who found it?", the general asked.<br>"Yes, sir."  
>"Then tell me…" He stopped and glanced at general Potter, who replied with a glare. "Tell us… how does it look."<p>

Vincent left a few minutes later, happy to be out of the danger zone and pitying the captain, who would be stuck with two generals for the next hour, if not more. The aides were playing cards again. Vincent sneezed and asked them:  
>"Mind if I", cough, "join you?"<p>

_Inner Sea_  
>Captain-prince Ferdinand had actually lent her his cabin and moved to sleep with his first officer, which made Anna a little bit unnerved. Not because she felt stressed or anything. Simply, if she had her say in that matter, she'd just sleep in some sort of common room. When she had suggested that, though, the prince looked like his eyes were about to fall out by goggling and he had hurried to make his cabin available for her. She wondered if that's how aristocracy around the world would treat her - in all honesty, apart from guests at Elsa's coronation and princess and prince of Corona, she'd never met any foreign nobles, and certainly not on their own turf.<br>And _Northern Wind _certainly was prince Ferdinand's own turf, wherever the Southern Isles might be. On her first night, Anna hadn't been able to walk two steps without bumping into something that might belong to the prince, despite his valet's visible attempts at cleaning up. She had remembered Kristoff's claims about every man in the world being equally disorderly. Back when he had said it, she had stated that he's just trying to justify the mess he left in his room, but having seen Ferdinand's bedroom, she had decided that there might be a kernel of truth to that.  
>She had been homesick that night, thinking of Elsa and Kristoff. They must be worried, she had thought, trying not to cry silently into her pillow. Without much success.<br>While Ferdinand had lent her his night cabin to sleep in, he very much used the day cabin as his working cabinet and next morning Anna had found him sleeping with his head on the desk. He had seemed to be embarrassed by that and made sure it didn't happen again.

The prince generally seemed uneasy in Anna's presence, which is why it was mystifying for her that he had decided to invite her to his weekly dinner with officers. Nevertheless, she had accepted with gratitude. He had been avoiding her and the sailors working hadn't been much willing to talk with an inquiring princess. All in all, Anna had found herself absolutely, painfully, terribly _bored_.  
>That's why she was currently sitting at the end of a long table, on the opposite side than the prince. He couldn't really sit further than me without leaving the cabin room altogether, she thought, trying not to smile, and chewed a piece of dinner. Technically, it was fish, but prince's valet - who apparently doubled as his personal cook - made it so that it didn't taste like fish at all. Anna hadn't really expected such a cuisine on the ship, but well - <em>Northern Wind <em>was commanded by king's brother, after all.  
>She scanned the people sitting at the table. There were some muffled conversations, but obviously nobody felt really at ease, and it was obviously not a usual situation on such dinners. The prince paid much attention to the food, glancing at her with uneasy look on his face when he thought Anna wasn't watching. The officers were doing their best to pretend that the meal consumed their attention completely, but their eyes reminded Anna of that of people at a tennis match, constantly flowing from one player to another and back - or, in this case, from Anna to prince Ferdinand and back to Anna. Is something supposed to happen?, she asked in her head. Am I supposed to do, what, shout at him? For being Hans' brother?<br>In all honesty, there had been a moment when she wanted to - on that night when she cried for home - but in the end, she decided it would be unfair. It wasn't prince Ferdinand's fault and so far, he seemed far removed from Hans -especially in a way he avoided her whenever possible.  
>Nevertheless, the tension in the room was awful. She looked at one of the officers and smiled politely.<br>"Would you pass me the salt, please?"  
>The man fumbled for a moment before giving her the saltshaker. She thanked, salted the fish and put it back, then smiled at the people in the room.<br>"It's really good. I have to admit, I didn't expect such a meals on a ship."  
>She expected awkward silence, but to her relief, one of the people answered with a tiny smile of his own.<br>"Well, seeing what your previous, ah… hosts were eating themselves, I'm not surprised. On the other hand, though, we're just lucky to have _herr _Schneider at our services here. Believe me, princess, on any other ship…"  
>He grimaced theatrically and a small chuckle circled the cabin. Some of the tension that filled it dissolved and officers, encouraged a bit by this exchange, started to talk more freely. Over the next quarter Anna learned more about navy cuisine that she would believe she could, and a bit more than she would like to. The only sore point was that prince Ferdinand remained silent, carefully avoiding her sight and growing visibly distressed. Anna wasn't really used to people reacting to her like that. Maybe I should tell him that I don't keep Hans' action against Hans' brothers?, she thought. Although perhaps not in public…<p>

When _herr _Schneider and two servants who apparently aided him collected the dishes and proceeded to put small snacks (no chocolate, sadly) and a carefully closed carafe of wine on the table, the conversation grew more muted. More and more stares turned to prince Ferdinand, who hid his face behind a cup of wine. Curious, Anna looked at him as well. His valet poured everybody the wine and retreated, also looking at the prince expectantly. Finally, Ferdinand lowered the cup and took a deep breath, before turning to look Anna straight in the eyes.  
>"Princess, I… Well, I believe one of us, von Schwalbes, that is, should finally say that to you, because, well, it's a disgrace that it's been over three months and we remained silent, that is, I understand Friedrich, that is the king, I mean His Majesty, had his reasons and that politics stand in his way, because not everybody would be happy about it, it being what I'm about to say, that is… <em>Verdammt.<em>"  
>He stopped and laid his head on his hand with an exasperated sigh.<br>"I'm rambling, am I not?", he asked without raising his head. A silent chuckle escaped somebody's lips.  
>"Don't worry", Anna said, curious of what the prince was actually trying to get across, "Happens to the best of us."<br>"Yeah, sure." He raised his head and looked at her again. "What I'm trying to say is… I'd like to apologize for my brother's behavior and for what he did - and tried to do - to you and your sister."  
>He paused to take a breath and continued.<br>"His actions are a disgrace to our family and there is no excuse for them, as well as there is no excuse for the rest of us not realizing what he is planning. I… am very much aware that apologizing is the least we can do, but I hope it will not seem…" He took his breath, obviously at loss of words.  
>Anna just kept on sitting, surprised. So <em>that<em>'s why he was so stressed and _that_'s why he invited me to this dinner, she thought. Well… it definitely wasn't something she had expected to happen. Now… what to say?  
>You had thought about it already, she reminded herself, noticing that all eyes in the room were on her. She tilted her head a bit and smiled to the prince, who reacted to it as if he was suddenly sedated.<br>"Well, I have to admit", Anna said, "that I didn't really expect this. There's no need for you to apologize, though - I don't keep Hans' action against you or your family and… well, I can hardly call you fools when I've been fooled myself. So… don't worry, captain. It's all fine with me."  
>The entire room seemed to have sighed silently in relief and prince Ferdinand poured himself wine and raised it with exhausted grimace as if to toast.<p>

The next midday, Anna came on board still yawning. The skies were clear and the temperature was terrible. It was hot and steamy. Even the wind was warm.  
>The man at the helm noticed her and raised an eyebrow, but she just shrugged.<br>"Some people can sleep for long.", she said, hoping that she managed to get her hair under control. The only mirror on the ship was barely the size to observe one's own beard - and she guessed that was its purpose. It wasn't very helpful to somebody who had hair longer than two of three inches.  
>The helmsman smiled glumly and turned back forward. Anna wiped her forehead, noticing the ship's first officer standing on the helm's edge and looking away from the ship. She followed his line of sight and saw the cliffs of some faraway island. Are those the Southern Isles already? No wonder it's so hot out here!<br>She narrowed her eyes, noticing a blinking light coming from the cliff, like sunlight's reflection. A repetitive one, although pauses between the blinks varied, as did the lengths of the blinks themselves. The first officer was looking at them, writing something down at his notepad. A while later the blinking stopped. The man closed his notebook and turned, then waved to somebody at the mast and gave some orders in Islander language. Anna observed, curious, as the set of three different flags was pulled up the mast. First officer returned to his observation. A while later two blinks responded from the cliff and he turned and waved his hand. The flags went down and the officer finally noticed Anna.  
>"Oh. Good afternoon, princess. Didn't expect you here." He waved towards the cliff. "We were receiving a message from semaphore."<br>"Ah. Alright." So that's what it was. Sunlight-reflection and symbol based communication towers weren't present in Arendelle, but she did know the system. If she recalled correctly, it was Islanders who first created it. "If I may ask, what island is it?"  
>"Vertauer. It's rather small, so you've probably never heard of it. We're way south of Zisch."<br>Already south the capital island? How long have I been out of Arendelle?, she asked in her head in surprise. I'm actually already closer to Stormbringing Ocean than home!  
>"Uhm, will I be nosy if I ask what's the message about?"<br>"Sure not. Soon everyone will know." He looked into his notebook and raised his head, looking at Anna apologetically.  
>"I'm sorry, princess, but it seems we can't really get you home soon. We were given a priority assignment from Koenigsberg."<br>"Oh." Anna felt another pang of homesickness. First officer smiled again.  
>"Apparently there's some trouble on the Westerguard island. We are to sail there and check if everything's in order."<br>Anna nodded, wondering where does she know the name from.


	19. Chapter 19: Military concerns

_High Table  
><em> Even though it was snow that weatherwatchers announced, it was _raining_ as the army was making its way through the edge of the plateau. Heavy gray curtains shielded them from scouts' eyes, and only by coming close anyone would be able to see the silhouettes of men and horses. Both people and animals had a mixed feelings about this venture. On one hand, stealth had proven to be their best asset in this short campaign. On the other, the downpour made everything miserable.  
>General Berg sympathized with his soldiers, fixing his hood so that a bit less water would spray in his face. Without much effect. They were riding upwind and the water was being blown in their faces. If Berg could, he would probably camp for the duration of the rain, preferably on the slopes of the valley, but alas, he couldn't. Supplies were already running short and between ice and water that covered the plateau in turns, horses didn't have much opportunity to graze either. The weather was making more and more of his men sick and ammunition and powder that wasn't soaked and useless was few in number. Fourth Corps needed to return to a friendly camp to heal, rest and resupply and it would be easier to do it now than later, when the ground turned into bog or started to freeze again. Intellectually, both Berg and his men knew that, but that didn't make them any less shivering and miserable in the heavy rain.<br>Berg was thinking about steaming hot, intense tea he was going to drink with Rasmus and Jens after arriving in their camp when he noticed a single horseman moving in his direction. He straightened a bit and cursed silently when water splashed on his face, then looked at the rider. It was his scout commander. The man saluted, and Berg asked:  
>"What is it?"<br>"Sir, forward patrol has noticed somebody moving in the rain. Might be Weasel scout or might be Weasel flank watch."  
>Berg nodded, hoping that it's the first option, and shielded his eyes with his hand.<br>"Which direction was he moving in?"  
>"Towards the Tampani."<br>This time, the general cursed. If the second option was right and it truly _was _a watchman for a larger piece of Weasel army… things were bound to get messy.  
>"Find out if there's more of them.", he ordered.<br>"Doing this already, sir."  
>"That's good."<p>

The night was spent on horseback, as nobody felt like getting down on muddy, almost-liquid ground. Horse were having trouble moving forward and grew tired, though, so as the blackness of night gave way to slightly-grayish-but-still-dark dawn, Berg finally decided to dismount the army and give animals and people a rest. He had just finished eating cold, somewhat-dry breakfast when the scout commander rode up again, stopped sufficiently far as to not to spray his superior with mud and jumped off the horse. Having pulled his collar over his face, he saluted and said, his voice a bit muffled:  
>"Bad news, sir. It's the army. At least a division, ten thousand people or more. I'd guess rather more, but in this rain we still don't have a definite count."<br>Berg nodded, grim. Decimated by the avalanche that allowed it to break free and march to the border, the Fourth Corps wasn't really as much a corps as it was an oversized division, numbering slightly over fourteen thousand. In other circumstances, Berg would be more than happy to pit this many against ten thousand Weasels, but his men were tired, growing wet and hungry. He didn't know how much supplies Weasels had after all the burning he'd done, but seeing how their communications with rest of their country were way more efficient than Berg's with his, he supposed they were both better fed and better armed.  
>He turned to look in the direction of Tampani… and the Weasels. If they were going to push their army through the trail and into the no-name valley, they could probably do to Kristiani and Olafsen what Arendellans attempted to do to them. Only they had more chances to succeed, because there was no general Windsor on Arendelle side who'd come to the rescue. General Simani's First would need four weeks to get to the war theater, and Madsen would need as much just to collect his people from ships and islands, not to mention that the Fifth had never worked as a huge, joint force before.<br>In all honesty, the only reinforcements Kristiani and Olafsen were likely to get were Berg's thirteen thousand cavalrymen and dragoons and the general feared that this was a force grossly inadequate to the task.

A few minutes later Berg and with all of his commanders, grouped in a circle, all shielding themselves - or trying to, at least - from the falling rain. Scout commander finished sharing the news with everyone and the general said:  
>"As you can see, it's rather obvious - they're going to march by Tampani and attack Second and Third's flank. I'm afraid…" he took a breath, "that our pickets in the entrance are already gone. Now, the question is, what do we do? How would you estimate your chances of punching through the Weasels and taking the trail back?"<br>There was a moment of silence before one of them said:  
>"After three days of rest - a real rest, not what we're doing now, in this drenching downpour - I'd say yes, against ten thousand we could, sir. But right now?" He shook his head. "Even if Weasels have no firing weapons working right now, a few days ago they were still in their comfy, heated tents while we were freezing out here. They <em>have to<em> be in better shape than we are."  
>Others nodded. Berg couldn't disagree either.<br>"Any propositions, then?"  
>"Can't we go over the trail, though the mountains?"<br>The general looked at scout commander, who, behind the curtain of rain, didn't look very optimistic.  
>"We might - just might - lead horses over the trail, but there's no way to lead them <em>down <em>from there. Or most of us, for that matter. On Arendelle side, it's a twenty-feet-high cliff and my men were using picks and lines to climb on it… Well, we can try it if we're in dire enough straits, but I wouldn't advise it."  
>"Any other passages to our side?", somebody else asked.<br>"The Streams, of course, but I doubt the Weasels have pulled all their army out of them. Apart from that, the only passage off the High Table is the Rollison Gate."  
>"Which leads straight to Weaseltown.", Berg noted, then narrowed his eyes.<br>"How do you think, would we be able to ride there and find some other path back to Arendelle?"  
>"If we manage to get rid of the guards they put at the Gate? Sure, there are dozens of passages though the Broken Back."<br>Another man, Berg's chief intelligence commander, shook his head slowly.  
>"The slopes beyond the Gate are watched by one of Weasel corps", he said, "and they have a lot of experience chasing bandits through the mountains, not to mention that they'd be supplied and welcomed anywhere they'd stop, while we'd have to fight for everything."<br>"So unlikely either.", murmured Berg. Somebody else, though, noted:  
>"If we started to burn their fields and houses, sooner or later they'd have to pull part of their forces out of the Table just to counter us."<br>Berg clenched his teeth and glared at the man, who cowered a bit.  
>"We are <em>not <em>turning this into war of atrocity. End of the subject. Clear?"  
>"Yes, sir.", said the man, nodding quickly. Berg glanced at the rest of them.<br>"Well, sir,", intelligence chief said, "this doesn't give us much in the way of options. Those dire straits of Dreves' might be happening right now."  
>"We could try to bite and strike at the Tampani army from their rear.", was another proposition.<br>"It sure as hell won't be as easy as it was on the Table", somebody else answered, "seeing how there'd be only one way for us to come and go."  
>"We still need to eat something.", the intelligence chief noticed. Berg stroke his beard. An idea sprouted in his head.<br>"How about raiding what's left by the Streams?", he asked. His men looked at him and he shrugged. "With part of their army gone, there's less of them to defend themselves from us."  
>Somebody nodded.<br>"We might even wreck enough havoc in their forces for Second and Third to break through up here."  
>"Not to mention that we could intercept their supply convoys", another colonel noted. "Windsor brought a lot with him, but soon they'll have to start sending for food. I bet we could take their convoys."<br>"Provided they won't burn it first so that we won't get it.", intelligence chief said. The colonel looked up at the still-falling rain and thick cover of clouds.  
>"Good luck with that."<p>

_Over the Tampani trail  
><em>"Good luck with that.", Vincent Meyers murmured maliciously, looking down from the mountain slope at pathetically small merchie division fortifying the entrance to the trail. "We'll kick you out of here in no time."  
>"Not so sure, Vince.", said private Bob Jenkins, drinking from his canteen. "You don't need that much men to hold our folks there and merchies will be watching sides of the trail this time."<br>Meyers looked back at the narrow, rocky passage that brought the two of them here. Trying to go through it with larger forces was a sure recipe for a disaster. So, no attack from the sides. He nodded and looked back down. There were no more than nine thousands merchies down there, setting up cannons and earthworks. The work had to be awful, even though the rain here was just a mere shadow of what was going on further up, but it certainly started to look impressive. Moreover, merchies watched all sides - rear and above included - carefully. Meyers and Jenkins hid behind the rocks and rain and were still careful not to raise their heads too high. Their white uniforms were covered in mud, rendering them slightly less visible, but still - these people certainly considered attack from above to be a possibility.  
>"Why do they have cannons here?", Jenkins asked quietly. "There's no way for them to shoot further up into the trail than what - a hundred yards? Hundred and fifty?"<br>"Well, if it'll be grapeshot…"  
>"Oh. Yes. Right."<br>Meyers nodded and looked again, surveying the entire place with his spyglass.  
>"Anything unusual?", he asked, glancing at Jenkins. Private shook his head.<br>"Nothing. Back to the captain?"  
>"Yep."<p>

It took them a better part of four hours to get to the army slumbering slowly down the trail. It was over twenty thousand people - majority of them from general Potter's army, but some were Windsor's as well - on foot and horses, without artillery, but with lots of range weapons. Most of which was, of course, safely tucked away, as there wasn't much a musket could do in the current conditions. The rain was picking up again and everybody looked like they really, really didn't want to be here.  
>Well, that's true for everybody, isn't it?, Meyers thought, sliding down on the lines the scouts left for each other in the morning. We don't want to be here, freakin' merchies don't want to be here either… At least my cough is mostly gone already.<br>Of course, he coughed the moment he thought that. He cursed and moved to make space for Jenkins and the two of them approached their captain. The officer stopped, jumped off the horse and listened to their account of what the merchies' situation was, then nodded.  
>"Looks good, maybe apart from this cannons. We should be able to defeat them, though… have you seen any of their scouts?"<br>"No, sir", Jenkins said.  
>"They might be on the other side of the trail", Vincent added. The captain nodded.<br>"Alright. I'll pass it to the colonel." He jumped on the horse and pointed at Meyers. "And you - doctor. Now."  
>"Sir? Do I have to?"<br>"I've seen you coughing again, so don't argue."  
>"Yes, sir…"<p>

_Unnamed valley  
><em> Soren Nexø had just sat to his much-misnamed midday tea with major - his name was Gynter Lund - when the runner entered the tent, looking even more soaked and muddy than captain himself. He saluted, panting heavily.  
>"Sir, there's Weselton army coming down the trail!"<br>Oh, crap, Nexø thought, putting his cup down on the table. Major narrowed his eyes and nodded.  
>"Not good. How many?"<br>"Roughly twenty thousand, sir. Perhaps a bit less. Less than a quarter has horses."  
>Oh crappy, crappy crap, Nexø added in his head. And there's like what - nine point two thousands of us? That'd be about one-to-two odds. 'Not good' didn't even start to describe it.<br>"How soon will they be here?", Lund asked, oddly calm.  
>"With their pace… I'd count it three days, sir. They certainly take their time."<br>Three days… dear my, we're not even halfway through fortifying our position and there's twenty thousand merchies ready to fall on our heads… Nexø closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He heard Lund saying:  
>"Go to the colonel - wake him up, if necessary. Tell him what's going on."<br>"Yes, sir."  
>There was a rustle of material and Nexø opened his eyes. Messenger was gone. Lund looked at Nexø and - to captain's surprise - grinned.<br>"I _really _want to see them try to attack us!"  
>Seriously?<br>"Sir, well, I'm not so sure about that. Sure, we are fortifying ourselves and the only position better than what we have now would be a full-fledged fort, but still… Twenty thousand."  
>"They won't be able to put more than sixty in line.", Lund noticed. "Less if it's horsemen. And then there's this little surprise we're preparing…"<br>Nexø nodded without much zeal. The 'little surprise' was tricky and would be great if it worked out, but after all this rain…  
>"I'd still much rather there were less of them."<br>"And who wouldn't?" Major shrugged. "Besides, twenty thousand here means twenty thousand less in the Streams. Maybe the generals could send us something more."  
>"It will still take at least three days for them to arrive."<br>"Just in time!"  
>Nexø nodded hopelessly. Lund seemed to be constantly ready to fight and full of endless optimism, which was potentially suicidal, but seemed to be working so far.<br>"Still, sir, I'd rather we found some way to… reduce their numbers."  
>"I bet that's what the colonel will say. So - any ideas?"<br>Nexø thought for a moment, but his mind seemed empty, with images of the in-betweens' hellish fight creeping up on him. Finally he shook his head, chasing them away.  
>"Nothing I could come up with right now."<br>"Really? 'Cause I do have an idea!" The grin became even wider.  
>Uh-oh.<p>

Colonel Dahl was a small man who to Nexø's eyes looked constantly sleepy. His brain seemed to have been working just fine, though, when he summed up his understrength division's situation to his commanders, grouped in his mostly-dry, mostly-warm tent.  
>"…grapeshot might stop them, but if they try a charge, there's no way to fire more than one salvo before they'll be on the guns. Of course, they might try another tactics as well - such as jumping out to fire at us, then hiding back behind the curve - and I'd be glad if their preferred method of approach gave us time for multiple salvos, but it'd be just a matter of time before they realize that they have to get rid of our cannons.<br>"Thankfully, they have no artillery of their own, so nothing to counter our guns with. But still, there's a lot of them and we're not calling them Weasels for stupidity. Luckily, they probably won't be pushing assault through the mountains. We'd just shoot them like ducks if they tried. So - the Tampani trail."  
>He pointed at the place slightly beyond the last curve of the trail and looked at Nexø and another captain, Riis.<br>"How's that surprise of yours going?", he asked.  
>"We'll have it finished by nightfall.", Riis answered.<br>"I'm worried about whether it do well, given current conditions", Nexø added, "but right now it's impossible to be sure." He shrugged. "It'll probably work, though. We took a lot of care to waterproof it."  
>The colonel nodded.<br>"But we don't know for sure, right?" Nexø and Riis agreed and the man raised his head to his chin, as if he wanted to tug a non-existent beard. "That's not as good as I'd like it to be."  
>"We're sorry, sir.", said Nexø, "With things like this, and weather being its usual self, we just can't assure you that it won't fail at some point."<br>"Yes, yes. I'm not accusing you of anything, mind. I'd just like to have more options."  
>Lund seemed to be just waiting for a statement like this. He leaned forward.<br>"Sir, may I have a proposition?!"  
>People in the tent, colonel excluded, exchanged unsure looks. Lund was just… sort of overeager.<br>"Yes, major?"

"Well, to be fair, _he _wanted the one to go.", lieutenant Hjorth noted as he and Nexø were making their way through the camp. It was just before midnight and the rain turned into cold, annoying drizzle that snuck under the collars and into the boots, but weatherboys predicted that the rain would soon return with full force. They didn't give any tips on how long it was supposed to stay, though.  
>"Sure, sure he did." Nexø admitted and he wasn't using sarcasm. "It's just that he's a major now, even though he seems to be stuck in cavalry captain's mindset."<br>"You're probably right, sir. But it's not that bad!"  
>Nexø looked at Hjorth, rising an eyebrow.<br>"Oh, really?"  
>"Well, yes. We'll avoid three days of digging the dirt, carrying the dirt, working on the dirt…"<br>"Yeah, sure. Instead we'll probably end up playing hide-and-seek with Weasel scouts."  
>"That's why we'll taking fair share of our own sneakies! Come on, sir, it'll go splendidly!"<br>"Whoa, you _are_ in a happy mood today, aren't you?"  
>Hjorth shrugged and looked forward, to the end of the camp, at the stone wall.<br>"Somebody has to, sir. You've been all gloomy ever since the in-betweens assault."  
>Nexø fell silent and it was his turn to shrug. What could he be happy about?<br>They reached the wall. Everybody was waiting for them already - nearly a hundred soldiers and fifty scouts. They weren't going to move out together, of course - they would split up as soon as they climbed up. Not to mention that another one and a half hundred people were on the other side of trail's entrance, and they weren't to make contact. Everybody, save for the scouts, wore a huge backpacks. Apart from food and water rations, there was a lot of… additional equipment here. I just hope none of us smokes, Nexø thought, and it actually made the edges of his mouth go up a bit. He had no idea how the others saw it in the darkness, but they answered with much wider smiles, grins even - if their wolflike expressions could be called like that.  
>"Alright, people.", he said, looking at all of them. "You know what to do, so I won't be repeating myself. And remember what I said about returning with your backpacks full."<br>"Two months of latrine duty…", the soldiers chanted in bored voices. Hjorth picked up his backpack and smiled crookedly.  
>"Don't worry, sir. We'll leave all of them for the Weasels."<br>"Good man. And now - let's go."  
>He grabbed a line hanging from the top of the wall, tugged it to see if it's strong enough, and started to climb up.<p>

""""

_So, much talking, not so much action here. Sorry for that, but there are few other... plots that I have to finish before I'll let merchies and Weasels shoot at each other._


	20. Chapter 20: To the south

_Koenigsberg  
><em> Michael reveled in power the situation suddenly gave him. In just under a week, he became not just king's reasonable brother, but an actual authority in enormous amount of matters of state. Friedrich seemed to be suffering a nervous breakdown, and Michael made sure that fresh gossip made its way into his ears daily, as well as sustained this gossip. To make things better, princess Annie still refused to talk with people about this important day and still didn't want to see her father. In all honesty, Michael was horrified at how Friedrich mauled her before he came back to his senses, but after initial burst of terror, he couldn't say it was a bad thing - for him, at least. Moreover, the king's policy of keeping peace with Arendelle got compromised along with him, and Michael - who had been talking against it for a long time - got an additional burst of respect from people of Zisch.  
>The only downside to this situation was that some people, including duchess-consort Lisa, captain Braun and some of his subordinates, still looked at him suspiciously. It was not a matter of much worry to him, though - once the crown was on <em>his <em>head, he could simply "retire honorably" the captain, and who would expect the duchess to stay in the castle after such a change on the throne? Michael was actually starting to think - carefully, but still - that he might even accomplish his goal without killing Friedrich, which would be quite elegant, now wouldn't it?  
>All in all, he felt like whistling as he was walking down the corridor. He didn't of course - to outside eyes, he was loyal brother, serious, filling in for his incapacitated king, bent under the weight of his new responsibilities. He couldn't show his happiness to anybody, least they started to wonder if he actually wanted the position…<br>"Prince! Prince Michael!", he heard behind him. He turned to see one of the kingsguards he paid.  
>"Yes… Alwin, was it?"<br>"Yes, prince." The youth smiled. It was surprising how much goodwill one could get from simple things. "Captain Braun sends his regards and asks if you could come to his office. There is a matter that should be brought to your attention."  
>Michael felt a bit of surprise that Braun would share the news with him, but it died quickly. However much the man might dislike him, he still had his responsibilities and sharing important data with whoever was in charge was one of them. And everybody knew that it wasn't Friedrich who was in charge right now… or anymore.<br>"Of course. Lead the way, private."

"…afraid our problems on Westerguard are bigger than we've thought.", Braun said, showing Michael a couple of reports. The prince took them and looked briefly.  
>"Long story short?", he asked.<br>"A few pendulum companies report their ships not arriving in place on time."  
>"It's the Stormbringing Ocean, so it's not like anybody should be surprised."<br>"I guess the companies know the risk of crossing the Stormbringer better than we do, so if they decided to inform us about it, it's something different." Kingsguard's tone was slightly snappish, or maybe that was just Michael's imagination. "They also sent a couple of courier ships to Westerguard to check if they made it as far as there."  
>"And?"<br>"None of them came back."  
>Michael clenched his teeth, looking at the reports. Pretty much all that Braun said - no ships or information had come from Westerguard for ten days at least. It was as if a place turned into a maelstrom that sucked everything into it and didn't leave a sign.<br>"Hans.", he said, cursing again in his head. "It's got to be Hans."  
>"What I thought. And what I suggested to the king. He seemed to have taken it surprisingly calmly."<br>Michael raised his head from the papers and looked at Braun sharply.  
>"You've already talked to the king?"<br>"Yes, I did." Captain's stare was so neutral it could be called challenging. Come on, it said. Tell me I had no right.  
>The problem was, he had every right to talk with Friedrich before informing the prince about anything. It was his job to keep the king informed, and officially, his current conversation with Michael was more of a courtesy than responsibility of his.<br>Still, Michael would prefer that he could present Friedrich with his own version of events. He nodded.  
>"I'll talk with him as well.", he said and gave the papers back. "Keep me informed if there will be any new information."<br>"Of course, prince. _Northern Wind _should arrive by tomorrow. Perhaps they'll have some new information."  
>Or that gung-ho loyalist pain in the ass Ferdinand will get himself killed, Michael thought. Not such a bad outcome, really. He'd be among the ones to protest against Michael taking the throne.<p>

Friedrich looked as if he aged twenty years over the past week. Michael would swear he saw grey hair. He didn't comment on them, though, as well as he didn't comment on his half-brother's obvious lack of sleep and a bottle of imperial vodka on the table. Judging by its state, though, Friedrich hadn't started drinking yet. Pity.  
>"So, I guess Braun told you about Westerguard problems?", the king asked, looking up from his glass. He was playing with it absentmindedly, sliding it from one hand to another on the polished table. With every slide, the glass was making awful noise comparable in painfulness with nails on the blackboard. <em>Shee… Shee… Shee… Shee…<em>Michael didn't say a thing about it, though, instead sitting at the table.  
>"Yes, he did. Seems to me like Hans isolated the island."<br>"Yes, so it seems." Friedrich nodded. _Shee… Shee…_ "It would make sense, really. More than a quarter of our income comes from managing trade with Southernmost Lands. If he cut that off…"  
><em>Shee… Shee… Shee… Shee… <em>He looked at Michael and something in his eyes forcefully reminded the prince that whatever vices his half-brother might possess, he certainly wasn't stupid when it came to ruling a country. _Shee… Shee…_  
>"We can't let that happen.", Friedrich said. "If he did take the island, we have to take it back before he consolidates himself on it."<br>"Ferdinand is on the way."  
>"With a grand total of one ship." Ferdinand shook his head. "Not enough."<br>_ Shee… Shee…_  
>"So let's send a squadron. We've got semaphore contact with naval base on Meier. They can be out and on the way in two days."<br>"So they come to attack and Hans burns the port down, along with what's in it. No, I'd rather avoid it."  
><em>Shee… Shee… <em>A genius idea sprung to Michael's mind.  
>"We need somebody high up to defuse the situation.", he said. "Somebody who could talk Hans down, and somebody with enough power and authority for his claims and words to be taken seriously, as the will of the Isles."<br>The so-called 'will of the Isles' was an old term that referred to king's right to decide what's best for his realm. Michael hoped that the allusion will subconsciously register with Friedrich and give him the right idea.  
><em>Shee… Shee… Shee… Shee… <em>Michael couldn't stand the sound anymore. He plucked the glass from between Friedrich's hands and hid it behind the bottle. His half-brother blinked, then looked up.  
>"Sorry. Didn't realize I was doing it." He took a deep breath. "Michael… would you do this for me? Go to Westerguard, I mean?"<br>That's _not_ what you were supposed to think!, Michael thought furiously, keeping his face civil and a bit surprised. You were supposed to jump at the idea and go there yourself!  
>"Me? I thought… I thought you'd rather do it. Leave Koenigsberg for a while…"<br>Friedrich's eyes drifted to the bottle again.  
>"I wish I could…", he said gloomily. "I can't, though. It's not like I don't trust you, mind. You've been doing excellent job and I'm really, really thankful. It's just that… it would be running away."<br>"No, why? Everybody would understand that you are needed to solve the problem…"  
>"In a perfect world, sure. It's not perfect world, though, and majority of people probably wouldn't understand how important it is. They'd call me coward who runs away… And I would be running away, whatever I could say out loud."<br>He looked up at Michael and the prince noticed his despair. Friedrich wanted to be gone. Anywhere, if only it was far away from Koenigsberg and his daughter. But… Michael knew when he saw a hopeless case. Friedrich was just plain _not _going to abandon what he considered his duty, whatever the circumstances. Father taught him too well.  
>"Alright", he said. "I'll do this."<br>Friedrich smiled.  
>"Thank you."<br>Michael shrugged, another plan forming in his head. I'll have to talk with my men, he thought. If all goes well, the court will be in tatters when I return and who knows - I might even be made a king by popular acclaim.  
>Not bad. Definitely not bad.<p>

Captain Eduard Braun knocked on duchess Lisa's suite and a moment later, "come in" could be heard. He pressed the handle, looked around to see if there are any of Michael's lackeys around, and then entered.  
>"Your grace." He bowed after closing the door behind him. "You called for me?"<br>"Good afternoon, captain. Yes, I did, in fact. Take a sit, please."  
>Braun nodded and shoved himself a chair. The duchess was sitting on a sofa next to the door to princess' rooms, beautiful as always. It was a long-hidden secret of Eduard's that he was absolutely smitten with Lisa von Soor when she first arrived in Koenigsberg to marry the king - but so was everyone else, really. Even after twelve years and bearing a child, she still looked starling, but by now, Braun had gotten used to it. He now looked at the door.<br>"How is she?", he asked carefully. Duchess smiled sadly.  
>"Better, I think. She started to draw again, even though she still refuses to see anyone except for the doctor, her handmaiden and me."<br>"That's… well, that's good.", he said and returned to the duchess. "May I ask why you have summoned me?"  
>"Of course.", she sat upright, business-like. "Captain, I am inclined to think that prince Michael's involvement in recent events is… more than just passing."<br>Braun nodded slowly. In all honesty, he suspected that for some time already, although he was careful not to share his thoughts with anyone else. The duchess saw his agreement and continued.  
>"I guess, really, that he has been up to something for some time already." She winced. "Annaliese was looking like a cat that caught a mouse ever since Hans came back."<br>Braun was the one to wince this time. While in general people liked prince Michael, his wife was rather on the opposite end of the spectrum, what with her obsessive buying of horribly expensive luxuries and tendency to boss her servants - or anybody in range, really - around.  
>"You think she knows something?", he asked.<br>"Surely not all, Michael is not that stupid. Had he told her his entire plan, she'd probably boast about it the next day and state that she was the one to come up with it." Lisa shook her head. "No. It's something Michael has in mind and I have a bad feeling that he had something to do with…"  
>She looked at the door to Annie's room and her eyes were pure steel.<br>"If he did…", she growled with clenched teeth, "_I'll personally gut the bastard and hang him from the window by his entrails._"  
>Braun was taken aback by this statement. What worried him was that he actually could envision the duchess doing just that. He swallowed and she looked back at him. Her smile seemed oddly out of place.<br>"Sorry, captain. Didn't mean to vent my frustration out at you."  
>"Uhm… You didn't, your grace. I'm sorry to ask but… I believe that there is purpose for you telling me about your suspicions?"<br>"Yes, there is indeed." She nodded. "Captain, I want you to… take a closer look at Michael's actions. Investigate, to put it shortly, and find out what is it that he wants."  
>"The crown, I'd presume."<br>She waved her hand.  
>"Yes, that does seem obvious. I'd like to know what is his plan to get it, though."<br>"Of course, your grace. Ah… I have to notice, thought, that formally, investigation of a member of royal family must be accepted by the king…"  
>"You'll have it. I'll talk with Friedrich in the evening."<br>"…and the Judge General."  
>"That little paper-pusher?" She shook her head. "Ignore him. You'll be pardoned if he tries to arrest you."<br>Braun nodded slowly.  
>"Thank you, your grace. I'll do my best."<p>

Going to his own quarters, he started to sort out what to do. Talking with the princess would be invaluable, but she didn't want to talk at all. He suspected few of his men to be working for Michael - although really, right now everyone was working for Michael, whether they wanted or not - but he couldn't really force them to confess and they could deny any accusations. No, he needed something else. A tangible proof.  
>But where could he find it?<p>

_Weste-Schleich Channel  
><em>"Well, sir… That doesn't look all too good to my eyes."  
>Understatement of the week, Anna thought, gripping the rail and looking at the dark gray storm front in the distance. She could already feel the strong wind that preceded it and she swallowed. That's how the storm that sunk ma and dad must have started, she thought. Dark, almost black mass of clouds, and blackness underneath it, sea looking as if it was boiling and the wind…<br>She turned to look at prince Ferdinand and his first officer. The latter had a spyglass pressed to his eye and seemed slightly worried. The prince, though, appeared to be calmness incarnate, even though she could see his fingers twitching slightly, as if they wanted to grab the rail.  
>"It's not really unexpected, seeing how we're on the edge of the Stormbringer.", he said. "We're too far from Schleich to get there before it hits, though."<br>"So, what do we do? Westerguard?"  
>It didn't seem like such a good idea. First of all, because the last semaphore message indicated that ships that stopped at Westerguard didn't leave. Second, because it was Hans' island and Anna doubted he wasn't connected to point one. And it was <em>Hans<em>. That alone should make them not stop at Westerguard.  
>"Not to the port", Ferdinand answered, "But if we get behind the landmass, we'll be at least partly shielded from the storm."<br>He turned and scanned his crew.  
>"Stretch the safety lines. Everybody in the harnesses. Prepare for the storm."<br>"Yes, sir.", the first officer said and started bellowing orders. Ferdinand looked at Anna and came to her, his fingers twitching again. He _was _nervous.  
>"Princess, I'd much appreciate if you'd go under the deck.", he said courteously. Even after his dinner apologies, he still distanced himself from her.<br>Anna shook her head. If the ship was overcome by waves, only those on board had any chance of survival…  
>"I'd rather stay here.", she answered. He closed his eyes for a moment.<br>"Princess, I must insist. The ship's deck in the middle of the storm is definitely not the safest place to be in. Not even close. You can be washed off the ship, you can slip and hit your head, safety line can break, mast can fall, sail can pin you to the ground, you might be tangled in loose line and waved around… If something happens and you'll be thrown overboard… Sorry, but there's just no way for us to pick up anybody in the middle of the storm. Sure, water is warmer here than to the north, but you'll die of exhaustion in matter of hours, and ocean storms can take days." He shook his head.  
>"Please, princess. Go below the deck. Somebody will give you safety harness and show you how to use it, but I'd rather you didn't have to."<br>Anna swallowed. Of course, all he said made sense… But what if ship crashed?  
>Well, Islanders are renowned for their navy, and it's not like <em>Northern Wind<em>'s crew haven't seen a storm before… or so I hope, Anna thought, nodding.  
>"Alright. I'll go down."<br>"Thank you."

_Westerguard  
><em> The rain started to rap on the walls and roofs of the keep shortly before evening, just after admiral Hauser entered the place. Seeing how quickly it turned into downpour, he was glad that he managed to postpone his meeting with quartermasters for tomorrow morning. In all honesty, it's not like they were desperate - there was always a plenty of fish around the island and Weste were more than happy to supply the garrison that gave them freedom, and the captured ships, especially pendulums, had more exotic goods aboard. One of them was supposed to be served on this dinner and Klaus Hauser was absolutely curious.  
>On his way, he passed - and paid honors to - the new flag of the Princedom of Westerguard, a two-headed, two-tailed fish in a yellow circle on blue background. The fish-abomination was apparently some important character in Weste beliefs, although every time Hauser saw it, he couldn't not think that it looked like two herrings that were fused together and now desperately tried to get as far away from each other as possible. On some flags their fishy expressions were hilarious, and they almost littered the island, forcing Hauser to exercise in controlling his face.<br>Finally he reached the room at the upper levels of the keep - the Prince's Keep, they called it now, although in their language, of course - where Victor Mousac made his quarters. Over the past month Hauser came to like short, stocky major, and it became a habit of them to eat dinner together at least twice a week. He knocked and entered.

"Southerners call it a 'kanga-roo'.", Mousac said, cutting a piece of the meat. With rain banging on the windows and wind howling outside, his voice - never too loud out of combat - was nearly impossible to hear and Hauser had to lean closer.  
>"Apparently it means 'jumping beast'.", Victor added.<br>"Really?" Hauser looked at the inoffensive piece of meat on his plate. "I wonder how it looks like in reality."  
>"I bet they have some pictures." Mousac shrugged and Hauser cut himself a piece of the thing.<br>"Not bad.", he murmured, chewing.  
>They didn't manage to finish before the door opened and the man in new uniform - with those terrible fish - jumped in and saluted, then started speaking Weste. Hauser's knowledge of the language was passable, but he understood the general message.<br>"Sir… admiral… we've got a ship approaching from the north."  
>"North?", Mousac asked in surprise, putting down his fork and standing up. Hauser followed suit, curious as well. They did capture some of the Islander ships, to the disgruntlement of their crews, but for one of them to come here in the storm?<br>"North, sir. And it's flying Navy banner."  
>Oh. Navy. Just great.<p>

Hauser only managed to put a hood on when he jumped out on the battlements on Victor's heels. The gun crews saluted, then quickly returned to hiding under the roofs and observing the incoming vessel. Hauser leaned closer, covering his eyes.  
>"One of those new <em>Hornisse<em>-class frigates", he said, making out the distinctive shape in the rain. "Thirty two guns. It deals well with storms."  
>"I see. And it doesn't look like it's planning to enter the port.", Mousac noticed, looking through the spyglass. Hauser extended his hand and a moment later he had a better look. <em>Hornisse <em>it was, and a well-kept one at that. It wasn't leaning very strongly and it cut through the waves without much effort, as it was supposed to do. Hauser felt a pang of jealousy. Even if he hadn't taken part in Hans' plan, he'd never have a chance to swim one of those.  
>He couldn't quite see the people on deck, so he started to search for ship's name on the side. The silver paint with which it was painted served well and as it started to climb up on another wave, he could see…<br>He froze, then boiled inside, jealousy and rage stronger than ever. This… this _bastard_! How dare he show his face to him?! How _dare_ he come here?!  
>"Klaus?", he heard a voice on his left. "What's wrong?"<br>He clenched his teeth and growled:  
>"Kill him. Kill him <em>dead.<em>"


	21. Chapter 21: Fighting the waves

_North of Westerguard  
><em> Wind and rain hit the ship from the front, and a moment later wave crashed into ship's bow, sending spray and water over the deck, flushing it completely. A moment later sailors on the deck let go of the safety lines, checked if anybody wasn't washed off the ship, and clung stronger, as _Northern Wind_ suddenly leaned forward and fell into the space between two waves. It straightened with a creak of her hull, barely audible in the howling wind, then cut through another wave. This one barely made a splash, compared with the previous. Another one was looming right behind it, though, ready to test the ship's solidity.  
>Ferdinand von Schwalbe balanced on the helm, one hand on the rail, the harness yanking him with every jerk and tilt of the vessel. In the other he held his spyglass, trying to see the keep. Another violent jerk sent it out of his hands and he was thankful for the short line that connected it to his wrist. He caught it, cleaned the lenses and resumed attempts of seeing anything through the heavy curtains of rain.<br>"You really think you'll see anything here?!", he heard Gustav screaming in his ear. He put the spyglass down and turned to his first officer.  
>"Their guns are manned!", he said, shielding his face from icy cold rain, wind and sea spray.<br>"In the storm?!", Gustav asked incredulously. "Paranoiacs or what?"  
>"Good question!"<br>He looked around the ship and, despite its jerks and tilts, felt a burst of pride, seeing how well _Northern Wind _and her crew were doing in the Stormbringer weather. He grinned to Gustav, who replied with a scowl. Both men gripped the rails as the ship slid down another wave, her bow piercing the water and lifting heavily, just in time to be up when another wave arrived.  
>"Isn't it fun?!", Ferdinand screamed cheerfully. Gustav clenched his teeth and shook his head, mouthing 'madman'. Then he turned and went to the helmsman. Ferdinand followed him, stepping over the safety line, and caught another rail in time for another tug. Rain hit with doubled strength, as if trying to make up for a weaker wave. Ferdinand looked forward.<br>"I'd rather we didn't go away from the island!", he screamed to Gustav over the wind.  
>"How do you expect that?! What, are we gonna change the tack in this weather?!"<br>Ferdinand shook his head, more somber, and caught the rail as the ship dived again. He turned and heard spray hitting his hood, a sound quickly replaced with fresh rain. He looked forward again. So far, Westerguard provided them with reasonable protection from the worst of the storm, but were they to swim straight into the Stormbringer… _Northern Wind _just wasn't cut for it. He started to think about how to best turn the ship in the weather like this when he heard over the wind and rain boots hitting the stairs. He turned to the staircase in surprise and froze in terror.

Anna couldn't stand it anymore. The ship was flying like crazy, throwing her from one wall to another, wood everywhere around her creaking and creaking as if it was about to break, water crashing loudly into the hull and all that in pitch darkness, because they wanted to avoid ship fire. It felt like her nightmares and finally she had enough. Thrown from wall to wall like a drunk, she managed to reach the staircase and climbed up, then caught the safety line, a thing thick like her thumb, close to the floor, vibrating in her hands. It took her a while to catch it with the snap hook and then close it properly, but finally she managed to do it and stood up, just in time for another tug to thrown her at the wall. She absorbed the hit with her hands, then pushed herself back, holding the doorframe, and looked aboard.  
>Outside it was nearly impossible to see anything further than three meters through the cover of rain, but she could feel the ship starting to lean forward again. She caught herself strongly and managed to stay on her feet, but the water flushed her and she ended up completely wet and shaking in the cold.<br>"Princess Anna!", she heard and saw prince Ferdinand, somehow standing straight despite not holding anything. He was seriously freaked out. "What are you doing here?! I told you to stay under the deck!"  
>"I can't!", she screamed back. "Sorry, I just can'! I'll just stand here, I won't be coming any more outside, I promise!"<br>He first shook his head, then coughed the rail, as if somehow anticipating the next jerk. Anna decided to do the same, and the ship suddenly leaned back. She gripped the doorframe stronger and looked at the prince again. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then shook his head again.  
>"But stay here, and don't let go of the…"<br>He didn't finish. She suddenly heard a loud _THUMP!_ and suddenly there was a hole in reefed sail she could see. The prince turned around and grabbed the rail, then screamed something in Islander.

"What the hell just happened?!", Ferdinand screamed, looking at the hole. It didn't look storm-made. In fact, it looked distinctly…  
><em>THUMP! CRACK!<em> He saw a hole in the wood and…  
>"They're shooting at us!", Gustav screamed.<br>"The keep?! The hell why?!"  
>"As if I knew! What do we do?!"<br>Ferdinand looked towards the ship, then towards the cannonball that rolled off the deck at just that moment. He heard a splash and saw an explosion of water when another shot hit it.  
>"We've got to move away from the keep!", he said.<br>"Into the full storm?!"  
>"You said it yourself, we're going there anyway!"<br>_THUMP! CRACK! _Another shot hit the ship. The hull this time. Ferdinand gripped the rail stronger, gaping at it. In this weather, a few more shots like this were a murder for the ship.  
>"Half sail!", he ordered. "We've got to move faster!"<br>…or we're dead.

Anna heard the same cracks and gripped the doorframe stronger. Was it the ship losing against the storm? Or was somebody shooting at them? Are they going to sink? I'm not going down!, she told herself. No way!  
>She suddenly saw white canvas of sails moving down, spreading. Why didn't they do this…<br>The ship jerked and creaked as if somebody was going to rip her apart, then started to gain speed, leaning and tilting to the side. Anna had to grab the other side of the door, feeling them going faster and less controllably. Main sail wasn't there, but many others were and the ship was shuddering, trembling, creaking in protest, leaning more to the waves, but going faster, and they were so low, we'll fall, she thought, we'll fall…  
>Deep breath. They know what they're doing…<br>_CRACK!  
><em> This time she saw it clearly, a shape flying through the air and hitting the mast, brushing it. The entire thing started to tremble. We're under fire, Anna realized. If this masts falls… oh, dear, it holds like half of the rigging. If it falls, in this weather… She grabbed the doorframe stronger, watching the mast that didn't look all too well. She noticed the prince turning to look at her. He started to say something…  
><em>THUMP!<em>, something whizzed by and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. _CRACK!_ Anna stared at the place in terror, took a deep breath, inhaling some water with it, then noticed an odd sound, like a whip hitting the wood… She looked down and noticed the safety line flapping in the weather, loose, cut…  
><em>THUMP! CRACK!<em> The ship suddenly jerked with full strength, Anna felt the doorframe slipping from her fingers, she hit the deck, I have to grab something…  
><em>THUMP! THUMP! <em>Another jerk and she was in the air, and suddenly…

She hit the water. She barely managed to take a sharp breath before wave covered her and pushed, she felt a momentary burst of panic, I'm drowning! Get yourself together!, she answered herself and realized that she truly _was _drowning, heavy boots she was given pulling her down. Air escaping her lungs, eyes seeing nothing, she bent and found the shoelaces, then pulled them and tried to kick the boots off. Her head and lungs started to ache, she finally let go of one shoe, then the other, and kicked the water strongly, hoping she's swimming up…  
>Her head broke the surface and she took half a breath before another wave covered her, pushing her back, somewhere. Anna tried to swim up and again, she managed to get her head over the water for just a moment. She slid down on the wave, taking a breath, and looked around, then closed her eyes again as water covered her. She couldn't see the ship… where am I?<br>All right, calm, calm, she told herself, frantically swimming upwards. Her eyes itched, her mouth was full of salt, around her there was thunder of waves and thumps of cannonballs hitting the water. She managed to break the surface again and with a _BOOM_ a cannonball hit right next to her, she went underwater again, they're shooting at us, shooting at us, what do I do…  
>She went to the surface again and managed to make a whole spin around, rain falling in her eyes and mouth, but she saw a faraway lights of the keep and the ship, like a small dark point, moving further and further… Can't go there, they won't have any way to pick me up… She took a breath just in time, started to swim to the surface, broke the surface, looked in direction of the keep again, saw a dark, bulky shadow of the island… I just have to swim there, she told herself, it can't be that far!<br>After the next wave passed, she started to swim. She was a mediocre swimmer in good circumstances, and those weren't good at all, but something - a will of survival, perhaps - kept her going as if there was no such thing as exhaustion. Up and down, up and down, deep breath, underwater, pushing up, deep breath, up and down, up and down… Rain and thunder of waves raged around her, making her nearly deaf, and she could barely see with her eyes teary from saltwater. Deep breath, water falling into her mouth, she could barely taste it now, darkness and thunder and rain, she was almost sure the shape of the island was growing before her, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I've got to be close, I have to make it… Deep breath, cough when she drank water, underwater, almost without air, up and up and up, and deep breath and another wave to beat…  
>I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it…<br>Water, water everywhere, up and down, in all directions, have to push up, have to reach the surface, have to go forward… where is up?  
>I have to make it, I can't stop so close…<br>Thunder and crash and thunder and crash of waves and water and all world was water and thunder and crash and salt and growing numbness of arms and legs, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, I have to make it, I can't stop so close, how long yet? Don't ask how close, I am close, I have to make it…

Something broke over the noise, a new thunder, and it seemed more dangerous. She slowed down for a moment, on the slope of the wave, sliding down, looking forward, and her heart sank when she realized what a bad choice she made.  
>The cliff seemed endless and endlessly tall, and the waves crashed in it in fury as if they wanted to change that. Anything between them and the cliffs would be crashed and destroyed, squashed between water and stone, dead… No, don't think that. There's got to be a way. There's got to be port in here. I just have to swim towards the keep… The wave covered her again and spun wildly and she picked her course, going against the waves, under the waves, she started to kick herself to the surface, air was running out, lungs ached, and ached, and ached… She felt the air and rain, took a deep breath and realized she had swam towards the cliff, she tried to dive and swim alongside it but suddenly a massive force pulled her to it. She tried to fight back but couldn't, the force pulled her stronger, sucking her in, she had so few air, suddenly the sea let go, she swam forward and up, caught a breath, she was spinning, sea was boiling, she didn't know where to swim, the current caught her again and pulled and sucked, she tried to swim away but her legs were giving up, numb, numb, so numb… She couldn't fight it. In a moment she'd crash into the cliff. She curled, hands over her head, legs to her torso, trying to shield herself from the crash, she couldn't breathe, water all around…<br>Suddenly the thunder changed, grew louder, lower and as if with echo, I'm alive, she straightened, pushing up, grasped for air, it was darkness around, darkness and a circle of light, no rain, only water crashing all around her. I'm in a cave!, she realized, and then the water started retreating, no, I can't swim back out!, she tried to grab the wall but it was slippery and smooth, finally she caught something, held it, water pulled her, then pushed her back in. She let herself be pushed further, looking forward, and froze, noting the light gleaming on the stone wall before her, the water started retreating again, she started to slide back, I can't go out and I can't go in, I have to make it through the storm inside… She couldn't, she knew it. The water pushed her forward again and she extended her hands, the impact pulled the air out of her lungs, she looked to the side, water was drifting to the left, and… was it light? She kicked against the wall and went there, water was still moving wildly, there were stalactites hanging over the boiling surface, she caught one and gripped it tight when the water started to pull back, she couldn't breathe in the waves, the rock broke in her hands, she tried to go back, swim forward, the sea started to return and she was pushed further.  
>Finally she entered a huge cave and she looked around in surprise, noticing torches on the walls. It was shaped like a bowl, with part that looked like a gallery with an exit and another, much lower floor, in front of it, washed over again and again. In torchlight she noticed the stairs up and then the sea swallowed her again. I have to go to this lower part, she thought, I can climb on the gallery. The waves pushed her again and she started to swim toward the ground, she almost grabbed it, but the sea pulled her. She tried to reach it, she couldn't, she was too weak… The waves stroke again and thrown her on the lower ground, she tried to crawl forward, the sea started to pull her back, no, you won't take me, you won't take me! They hit her in the back again and she let them carry her forward, closer to the stairs, she started to crawl again, so close, so close…<br>When she reached the steps, she couldn't climb even the first one. Her hands were shaking with exhaustion, her legs barely pushed her forward, the sea swam to and fro, she was too weak… I won't make it, she thought. I went so far… No. No. No! She clenched her teeth and reached the first step, big and wide, with an higher edge that she could catch. She pulled herself up, slowly, slowly… Now another. Behind her she could hear the waves crashing, repetitive thunder drowning all other sounds. She could barely hold the first step with her hand when she extended another to catch the next one. She did it, moved the second hand and pulled up again, shaking from exhaustion and growing cold.

It seemed to be taking forever, much longer than her swim to the cliff. The waves crashed and crashed and crashed, bringing with them a weak wind that made her freeze, the sounds blending together into one loud thunder that took ages. The stairs seemed impossibly steep, if not vertical, and they just didn't want to end. I have to make it, she repeated in her head, I can't stop so close… One hand up. A grip. Second hand up. A grip. Legs pushing against the ground, hands bending, pulling the body up… one leg one the step. Another leg on the step. One hand up. A…  
>Her fingers caught air. For a moment she just looked for a step without understanding, before she realized that she reached the top. She tried to grab the ground, pushing herself up, she had to make it, she had to… With a faint scream at what was top of her lungs now, she pushed herself with her legs and was finally on the gallery, away from the water.<br>She was lying there for some time, hearing crush and thunder, feeling cold and exhaustion drowning her, like a tonnes put her back and above all, she wanted to sleep… No, she told herself. I'll die if I stay here to freeze to death… I have to go… She turned and looked for the exit from the gallery. She crawled that way.  
>Inside there were lamps and warmth and dozens of wooden crates, one of which was open. She didn't know why, but there was something inside, so she crawled in there, curled and closed her eyes.<br>Darkness swallowed her.

_The Prince's Keep  
><em> Hans was circling his room, going from corner to corner, stopping sometimes to glare at Hauser. The admiral put on an expressionless face, hoping that Hans' anger was quick to pass. Although, judging by his brother…  
>Finally Hans stopped at his desk, put his hands on it and drummed with his fingers, looking at Hauser.<br>"So…", he said. "I believe I can't really keep it against Mousac, seeing how you practically overrode him, but let me just sum it up, alright?"  
>Hauser nodded, his face a wooden mask.<br>"Thank you. Let's start with that: twenty cannonballs. You _are _aware we don't have an infinite amount of those?"  
>He was. As a matter of fact, that was the reason Victor gave when he ordered to cease fire. I have to apologize him, Hauser thought regretfully. He'd rather not lose Weste's friendship, although he feared he just might.<br>"I can make up for their losses from ships' stockpiles.", he said.  
>"That would be wonderful, if it wasn't for the fact that navy guns and keep guns fire differently-sized shots. So that's not really an option."<br>Hauser nodded, concealing his emotions. I was an idiot, he berated himself. But it was this bastard Ferdinand… No, don't think about it, he told himself, feeling familiar rage starting to boil. He didn't manage to hide it entirely, though, because Hans narrowed his eyes.  
>"Then there's a matter of who you were shooting at.", he said. "Am I right, guessing that it just so happened to be Ferdinand?"<br>This time Hauser swallowed.  
>"Yes, your grace."<br>Hans looked at him for a moment, then sighed, shook his head and sat down.  
>"Do you imagine how great opportunity it would be if we were to keep him <em>hostage<em>?"  
>Hauser blinked. It didn't even occurred to him then, but… It would make so much sense. Friedrich wouldn't risk his own brother's life, and the navy… ha! The navy sure as hell wouldn't open fire knowing that they might kill their beloved Prince Perfect! He nodded.<br>"I'm sorry, your grace."  
>Hans shrugged.<br>"Well… we'll just have to make what we can with what we've got. I bet we could fool the navy into thinking we've got Ferdinand, at least for some time."  
>Hauser just nodded and Hans waved him away from the room.<br>"Get some sleep.", he ordered. "I bet soon you won't have much opportunity for that."  
>Hauser nodded again, saluted and left. Closing the door behind himself, he felt his knees… shaking? Yes. Throughout the conversation, he expected Hans to explode like the king was said to do, but Hans seemed oddly serene. Hauser shook his head and went in search of Mousac. I have to apologize to him, he reminded himself.<br>It wasn't until he passed a few corridors that he noticed that Hans wasn't really much upset or sad over his brother's death. As if only the future of Westerguard - the Princedom, really - mattered.

_Smugglers' Cave  
><em> Anna awoke numb and cold. She tried to stretch and realized she's in some sort of a box. What happened?, she asked herself in surprise, blinking and noticing she's surrounded by furs. What is going on here?  
>The events of the night returned to her and her eyes widened in terror when she realized what had happened. She was in the foreign land… Hans' land, to make it worse… She didn't know the language, she didn't know what happened to <em>Northern Wind<em>, or even if the ship survived the storm and the shooting… What if they were all dead? She swallowed. She came to like them, the officers and the crew alike. To think they were all… the sailor who found her on smugglers' ship, the first officer, the scowling helmsman, the distant prince… to think they were all dead…  
>Suddenly she heard a loud cry of pain. She froze for a moment, then crawled out of the crate and sat on the ground, salt creaking with her every move, everywhere on her. Somebody wailed again, this time breaking down into sobbing, but the voice wasn't as loud as she thought. In fact, it seemed rather weak, as if the screaming person didn't have much strength left.<br>Anna stood up and stretched, salt falling off her in tickles, then stepped to the exit, feeling slippery, cold rock under her feet. She entered the gallery and noticed that the sea seemed to had calmed when she was sleeping. The waves were weaker, they didn't hit the bottom of the gallery, and the thunders weren't nearly as loud as she remembered…  
>There was somebody sitting under the wall of the cave, curled up, in mottled uniform, hiding one hand with another. A still-smoking, but drowned torch lied next to him, rolling with the waves. He wore a familiar uniform.<br>Anna ran down the stairs and to the man, then crouched next to him.  
>"Hello!", she said. "Hello…"<br>The man looked up.  
>"Prince Ferdinand!", she said, feeling a burst of joy. Somebody survived! Somebody…<br>She sobered up, noticing his absent eyes and expression of pain.  
>"Can't do this…", he said to her, although she wasn't sure if he even noticed who she was. He must've, for he was speaking Confederate. "So sorry… <em>Ich kann nicht… Tut mir leid…<em>"  
>"Prince? Ferdinand? What is it?", she asked, not understanding what he was talking about. He swallowed slowly and stretched his legs a bit, then took one hand off another. Anna inhaled sharply.<br>"_Tut mir leid… Mutti, gehe ich nach dir? Bitte… bitte…_"  
>There was no hand. His arm ended in the middle of forearm, and the rest was just a ragged, gore stump that still bled. Anna could smell the awful stink of burnt flesh and noticed a black stain on part of the stump. She glanced at the torch in terror. He tried to cauterize it, she realized, he just couldn't finish…<br>"_Verzeihen sie mir_…", he wailed, and took a sharp breath. He put his head on his knees. "_Ich kann nicht…_" Anna swallowed.  
>"Shhhh. Shhh…", she told him, putting her hands on his arms, trying not to look at bleeding, stinking stump. "Everything will be alright…" He looked at her again and blinked. A trace of consciousness appeared in his eyes.<br>"Help me…", he begged. "Please, help me…"  
>He cried, grabbing his arm. Anna dared to look in its direction. She had to do something… He already lost a lot blood, if she didn't stop it… She didn't have anything that could work as a bandage… She looked at the scarf that held her dress close to her body, but it wouldn't do much, and it was full of salt. She took it off nevertheless, finally making a decision.<br>She stuff the scarf in Ferdinand's mouth, so that he wouldn't bite his tongue off. His eyes trailed into oblivion again, but he bit it, as if he understood. However, he looked at her with terror as she stood up and reached for the torchlight and when she returned, not wishing to at all, he covered the stump, shaking his head.  
>"Don't make it harder for me…", she asked him. "You begged me for it yourself. Please, let's do it quickly and have it behind us… Please…"<br>He stared at her for some time, but finally extended the torn arm, turning his head away. Anna crouched next to him, torch in one hand, and swallowed hard.  
>How do you even do this?, she asked anybody who'd know, grabbing his arm with free hands. He shuddered, but didn't fight her. Anna almost hoped he would. What if I set him on fire?, she asked herself, looking at the torch. Cold water washed over her feet, as if prompting her to action.<br>Alright, she told herself with new resolve. Let's do it and have it behind us.

She closed her eyes and with a sharp movement pressed the torch to his arm. _The smell!_ She almost vomited, letting go on his hand and covering her face, she heard Ferdinand's muffled scream, she wanted to vomit, the smell, the stink, the burning flesh and blood, and…  
>It all took maybe a second. She dropped the torch and doused Ferdinand's arm in the water, then stood up and staggered to the edge of the rock. She fell to her knees and vomited all she had left in her stomach.<p>

Behind her, Ferdinand slumped to the ground, unconscious.


	22. Chapter 22: Tourists in hiding

_Westerguard  
><em> Anna had no idea what time it was. Perhaps somewhere around morning - her stomach surely suggested it to be about time for breakfast, but then, she had swam something like half a mile and then fell asleep, so her biological clock was bound to be slightly off. She wouldn't be surprised, really, if it was midnight outside, but then she wasn't about to swim out to check it. She felt miserable as it was, and most of all, she felt hungry and decided to focus on finding something to eat rather than estimating the day time.  
>She glanced at Ferdinand, whom she stowed in the crate with furs, but the prince was still unconscious, still clutching the stump of his arm. She looked over the other crates and decided to take a look inside.<br>I wonder who owes them, she thought, opening the first one. Furs again. Perhaps I'm in the basement of the keep… no, no way. I couldn't have swam that far, not to mention - what would the keep need so many furs for? She closed the crate and approached another one. So, some nobleman's basement? I hope he or she won't mind… She whistled, seeing jewels glittering in the torchlight. Well, that must be heavy…  
>As she continued to search through the crates, she quickly realized that this isn't <em>quite<em> the nobleman's basement. Crates were unassuming and wooden, even though strengthened, but they held amounts of riches that baron Kjær, Arendelle treasurer, would surely be ecstatic about. When Anna crouched and looked at the descriptions on the crates, she saw a sign in Confederate language: "_Schmitt. Fish and seafood_". She was quite confident that the riches in the crate were definitely neither of those.  
>Dear, but I <em>wish<em> those were fish, she thought, closing the crate with yet another batch of furs and walking to another. I think, that I've got bigger problem, though, she told herself after seeing yet another crate, this time with odd, golden-clad idols. I'm in a smugglers' den. Great.

Behind her, she heard a loud yawn, closely followed by "_Was zum Teufel…?_" and a much stronger, nearly panicked curse. Anna jumped there and leaned over the crate.  
>"Hello, prince! I see you woke up."<br>Buried under the furs, Ferdinand looked up at her with mixture of incredulity and panic slowly going away.  
>"Oh. Hello." He apparently wanted to sound as unperturbed as she pretended to be. "Where am I?"<br>"In a crate, in a cave of smugglers, sans smugglers."  
>"Indeed… And… why am I here?"<br>"It seems cannonball shot you off the ship. No idea how you survived, really."  
>"Me neither.", he admitted, trying to stand up. He tried to catch both edges of the crate, but the stump just bumped into the wood. He shrieked and grabbed it, then looked at Anna again. He was visibly shaken.<br>"What happened to…?"  
>"I don't know.", she admitted. Personally, she hoped it was because of the cannonball, not some sea predator she herself somehow managed to elude.<br>"Oh. Uhm… You didn't happen to find… uh… the missing… part?"  
>Anna shook her head, swallowing as she noticed a piece of burn skin under Ferdinand's fingers.<br>"No, not really. I'm sorry."  
>"Nothing to be sorry for…"<br>She wanted to help him stand up, but he just waved her away and did it himself, even though the furs kept on underneath him. Anna smiled sourly.  
>"Well, congrats. Now you can just turn back and walk out of the crate." She shown him the missing side of the box. Ferdinand glared at her.<br>"Oh, really? Thanks for mentioning that earlier…"  
>He left and looked around, still holding his arm.<br>"It's full of goods.", Anna said. "But no food."  
>"Pity. I'd eat something." It was obvious that he wasn't nearly as calm as he pretended to be, but Anna decided not to point that out. He let go of his hand and searched his pockets, trying to reach the right one with his hand before he sighed and realized what he's trying to do. He finally pulled something out.<br>"Well, I have a bit of dried meat…"  
>"You just carry it around with you like that?"<br>"This way I don't have to go under the deck for a snack."  
>Anna nodded - she wasn't going to complain, after all. They divided the small strip in half with some effort. It was definitely not dry, and so salty the meat was impossible to taste, but at least it filled her mouth.<br>"I think we should leave soon.", she noticed, trying to wipe the salt off her mouth. All she managed was smearing it. "I don't think the smugglers will like us when they arrive."  
>"No, not at all.", Ferdinand admitted. "I'll just…"<br>He tried to reach with what was left of his right hand to his belt. He caught himself at it after a moment and sighed again.  
>"Great. Just great. I…" He shook his head. "I forgot the sword. I must've left it in my cabin."<br>Anna nodded, not vocalizing what both of them were probably thinking, that the sword - and the cabin - were most likely on the bottom of the sea right now.  
>They went under the walls of the cave, but they didn't find any staircase or door. Ferdinand cursed quietly and murmured:<br>"Of course. They come and go by boat, by the same entrance we did."  
>"Only we don't have a boat," Anna said, "and I doubt I could swim anywhere in our condition."<br>"I… Me neither.", he admitted after a moment, looking at his arm. "Perhaps… I don't know. Honestly, I don't think we have any option other than to wait for the smugglers."  
>"We can always look through all the crates to kill time.", Anna proposed.<p>

They discovered a variety of perfumes, but nothing edible, so they ended up sitting by the entrance of the gallery and waiting. It took some time, but finally Ferdinand straightened.  
>"There's a boat coming.", he said. Anna decided to take navy man's word for it and stood up as well. The two of them pressed their backs to the wall and princess looked out. A moment later she hid her head as the bow of a middle-sized rowboat came into view. A moment later she heard a conversation between two men, but the language seemed odd. She leaned to Ferdinand.<br>"What are they saying?"  
>"No idea, they speak Weste.", he answered equally quietly and the two of them fell silent as the boat audibly hit the stone, splashing the water. The two men disembarked, still talking, and Anna could hear in their voices that they were certainly not happy to be here. One seemed to complain to another, who's attitude was clear "yeah, yeah, me too, stop babbling…" The splashing of the water finished and Anna pressed herself stronger to the wall, wishing that there could be something in the crates she could use as a bludgeon. She held her breath.<br>The two smugglers entered and immediately noticed the broken crate of furs. They were both at least half a head shorter than Anna, but stocky in built, almost square as a result. They approached the broken crate, exchanging annoyed remarks and not looking back. Anna nudged Ferdinand and quickly moved through the entrance. She waited there under the wall, holding her breath and listening, but the two smugglers kept on conversing, still half-annoyed, half-tired. Ferdinand joined her a moment later and the two of them moved quietly downstairs. The prince wanted to go further, towards the boat tied to some piece of rock, but Anna held him by his arm and shook her head, moving her lips as if to say "splash, splash". _They'd hear us_. Ferdinand stopped and nodded, then looked at the water, at the exit where two smugglers still talked, and finally at Anna, with half questioning, half annoyed look. _Any genius idea?_ Anna shook her head, then raised her hand, put her fingers in shape of walking legs and showed them "sneaking" slowly. _We just have to be silent_. Ferdinand nodded, visibly annoyed. _That's obvious._ She glared at him and he showed her to the water. _Ladies first_. She sighed inaudibly and he did the same, pointed his thumb at the exit, where the smugglers were working on something with the wood and then turned his hand on his wrist a few times. _Hurry up_. She nodded and carefully slid her feet into the water. It was warmer than she remembered.  
>They walked to the boat slowly, barely rising their feet and barely making waves. Thankfully, whatever noises they might have been making were drowned in sounds of crate being fixed and stream of probably-profanity coming from the smugglers. Finally they approached the boat, much bigger than Anna first thought, and climbed into it, careful not to make noise. It still wavered a bit, colliding with the rock and splashing water, but it seemed the smugglers thought it to be some bigger wave finding its way into the cave.<br>Anna and Ferdinand sat on two benches in the boat and looked at each other. Ferdinand spread his hands - or tried to, but the gesture was clear. _What now? _Anna mimed rowing and showed the exit from the cave. _Let's get out of here._ Ferdinand started to nod, then shook his head, pointed at the crates' room, then at the cave floor, waited a second, pointed up and scratched his chin. Anna narrowed her eyes before understanding. _If those two stay here, their higher-ups will wonder what happened_. She nodded and shrugged. _So?_ Ferdinand pointed up, then put his hand to the eye as if he held a magnifying glass in it, pointed at himself and Anna. _They'll be looking for us_. He put his hand over his head, cowering, then shook his head again. _We can't hide._ Anna nodded reluctantly and looked around. She noticed a huge piece of fabric in one corner, probably to cover the boat in the rain. She pointed at it and made a gesture of pulling it over her head. _Let's hide under this._ Ferdinand nodded and the two of them went to the stern of the boat and delicately slid under the cover. The prince was turning under it for a while before going silent. It quickly became hot and nigh-impossible to breathe, but Anna wasn't going to complain.

When they left the cave, two men smuggling them out without their knowledge, Anna saw sunlight shining through the tiny spaces between the threads. So was it already daytime, or still daytime? Whichever it was, the temperature grew higher and Anna found herself fondly remembering the coolness of the cave.  
>For a long time, the only sounds accompanying her were her breath, splashes of water being thrown by the rows and a conversation of two men, apparently happy to be on their way to finish their assignment. It seemed to be taking forever and Anna felt as if she was being cooked. Gradually, the other sounds started to arrive - other ships, sails rustling, screams of seagulls and human voices. We must be entering the port, she thought and wondered what would she and Ferdinand do after their arrival. She presumed they'd have to wait until the darkness fell before trying to leave, but how could anyone miss two people coming out of apparently empty boat? She was considering ways to do this for a while before hearing and feeling the boat hitting the pier. There was something going on for some time and then Anna felt the bottom of the boat going up a bit as the crate was lifted and taken ashore. Two smugglers talked with somebody else for a while before they came out of the boat and their voices blended in with all the activity in the port.<br>"We wait for the night?", she suggested to Ferdinand in hushed voice.  
>"Yes", he answered, "and how do we get out then?"<br>"Are there some sort of ladders leading to the water?"  
>"Of course. We slid out and climb up?"<br>"That's my idea."  
>"Let's do it." He sighed. "And I almost dried my uniform…"<br>"I suggest you let go of it."  
>"Why would I?"<br>"Wouldn't it be…"  
>She stopped abruptly when she heard a voices closing, speaking clear Confederate.<br>"You can't do this!", somebody was saying with mainland accent. "I wasn't even going to stop here, I only wanted to wait for the storm to finish! I was going to Schleich!"  
>"And I don't care in the slightest.", another voice answered with the same accent smugglers had, his voice a clear indication that it wasn't the first time he was having this conversation. "The prince said: no ship that enters the port exits the port."<br>"But you can't do this to me! I'm not even an Islander…!"  
>"Neither am I." The man's monotonous way of speaking was obvious. "I don't care in the slightest who you are. Ships that come into port, stay in the port."<br>"You can't…!"  
>"Oh, stop repeating yourself!", the man snapped and the two of them stopped. "If you want to protest, protest to the prince. I just want you to know that they have a really big prison there that just so happens to be empty!"<br>"But…"  
>"Stop bothering me!"<br>Quick steps suggested clearly what happened next.  
>"So", Ferdinand said quietly, "Hans is sequestering the ships."<br>"What for?"  
>"So that nobody finds out what's going on, I guess. That's probably also why they opened fire at us."<br>"Right. That's bad, isn't it?"  
>"Yeah. I guess the local navy commander is on it as well, so not much chance of sneaking out of the island undetected."<br>Anna cursed in a way parents and Elsa would probably not approve of, then asked:  
>"So what do we do? Your king will probably send somebody to reclaim the island, won't he?"<br>"So I hope. I'm just afraid we'll get caught in the crossfire."  
>"Oh, great."<br>This was just getting better and better.

Finally she felt the temperature lowering to tolerable levels and the port activity grew lower, until finally it was a shadow of its former self. They waited some more time before Anna suggested:  
>"Let's go?"<br>"Let's go."  
>They slowly slid the cover off their faces and looked around. The boat was in the shadow among many similar ones, although most of them bigger, with fishing nets and all that equipment visible. There was somebody walking on the pier once in a while, but not too often. Prince and princess put away the fabric and looked around in surprise.<br>"I've seen more lively ports.", Ferdinand said after a moment.  
>"So have I." Anna remembered the ever-busy pier of Arendelle and compared it with absence of anything here. "It looks abandoned. I guess we don't have to go swimming after all."<br>"Thankfully."  
>They exited the boat and looked around. Further away, there were two other piers extending into the bay, in which stood a mix of regular merchant galleons and absolutely monstrous ships that looked like humans among trolls. Alright, maybe they weren't as much different in size, but still… Anna noticed men with swords and rifles over their shoulders patrolling the port. Most of them had some foreign uniform and most of them were clearly Weste. It was quite easy to differ them from Islanders and whoever else was there, so she quickly noticed people in uniforms like Ferdinand's.<br>"I have an idea.", she said, quickly combing her hair with her fingers to look better and leaned on him to cover his stump. "Just go there and pretend I'm some girl from one of the merchant ships."  
>"What?!"<br>"Just look around! It won't be out of place in the slightest, and standing there, we just look suspicious."  
>After a moment Ferdinand nodded and they started a casual stroll down the pier.<br>"Try not to look as if it was a torture, alright?"  
>"I can't", he hushed to her. "You're rubbing the salt into the stump."<br>"At least pretend! You'd think I paid you for accompanying me!"  
>"Ha! If only I got that much out of it…"<br>They shut up as they went between the people. Anna noticed with a bit of embarrassment that she caught eyes of more than one men in the port and they clearly congratulated Ferdinand on "catching" her. She never recalled anyone congratulating Kristoff, although back in Arendelle she was the crown princess… She had to work hard to keep her face expression positive as homesickness and Kristoff-sickness grew in her. Ferdinand, on the other hand, got in the role perfectly, although at some moments he came across like some proud owner.  
>After they went through about one third of the port, Anna relaxed a bit, finally managing to chase away sadness, and started paying more attention to her surroundings. She noticed the flags hanging from every building as if was Independence Day, and heard people talking, in crazy mix of Weste language, Confederate and Islander. She managed to find out that people thought they lived like kings now, that they hated the Islanders and that apparently Hans was a glorious exception from this general rule. She clenched her teeth at the last one, but quickly remembered to act the part. Whoever noticed her, must've thought that she was simply still angry about her ship being "imprisoned" here, because nobody said a word.<br>"So… where are we going?", Ferdinand asked quietly, leaning towards her after they exited a clutter of soldiers and sailors.  
>"Somewhere we can get something to eat.", she answered.<br>"Genius. And what are we going to pay for the food with?"  
>Anna slid her hand into the pocket of her dress and Ferdinand's eyes widened when he saw a blink of gold and jewels in it.<br>"I helped myself with the crates in smugglers' cave.", she said.  
>"Nice… I didn't think about it.", he admitted.<br>They found a place that advertised itself as having food, beds and fresh water, which made Anna dream about a shower. The woman who ran it had a halting command of Confederate and Islander, but she accepted the golden coin at face value and left them in their room with windows covered, food on the table and only a single, though large bowl of water of moderate temperature. She even blinked to them as she exited the room, as if she expected them to use the bowl together.  
>"Great…" Anna sighed and showed Ferdinand the wall. He obliged and turned back.<p>

"I feel… quite uncomfortable about the current situation", she admitted, sitting wrapped in a quilt as Ferdinand washed himself and her dress was drying, draped on the wall as there was no fireplace - a most curious thing, in Anna's eyes. Perhaps that was just because she hadn't bath for a long time, but the bath was wonderful and she'd probably feel a lot more like a human being if not for the fact that she shared the room with Ferdinand and neither of them had spare clothes.  
>"Me to.", the prince agreed. "You'll have to buy us some new clothes tomorrow."<br>"Why me?"  
>"Because one-handed man in navy uniform is not a normal thing." Was it just her imagination, or was his tone absolutely bitter? She blinked, not turning around.<br>"You can't serve with only one hand, can you?"  
>"Nope. Cripples aren't allowed in armed forces." He clearly <em>was <em>bitter. Not that Anna was surprised. She tried to cheer him up:  
>"Maybe they'll make an exception for you."<br>For a moment there was only a splashing of water and then Ferdinand said:  
>"Let's change the subject, alright? Like… don't know. You've got anybody waiting for you back in Arendelle?"<br>"Well, there's Elsa… And… Kristoff…" She felt the tears again. She _missed_ him.  
>"Some fiancée of yours?"<br>"Not yet."  
>"Really? Quite unusual for nobility to… you know, date."<br>"When I wanted to marry somebody without dating first, he ended up trying to kill me."  
>"Who… oh. Yes, right."<br>"Let's try not to meet him, alright?"  
>"Of course."<br>She heard Ferdinand exiting the water.  
>"And you?", she asked. "Got somebody back in Koenigsberg, or sailor-style, a girl in every port?"<br>"Oh, I… well…" He fumbled for a moment. "Well, I don't really… I mean, women aren't exactly my…" He trailed off.  
>"Oh. Okay. I don't mind."<br>"Ah-ah-I mean, it's not like…"  
>"I said I don't mind…"<br>"Ah, alright. If you say so."  
>It was clearly time to change the subject again.<br>"What do we do?", she asked.  
>"Eat and sleep?" Ferdinand was clearly grateful.<br>"Fine by me, but what do we do tomorrow? How many nights did I pay for, anyway?"  
>"Three, I think. Tomorrow… you know, you buy the cloths, we stay low profile, preferably not exiting the room."<br>"Dear, the owner will think us…" She couldn't help but chuckle. Ferdinand followed shortly after.  
>"Anyway", she continued, more sober, "I don't think we can stay there for too long. In the city, I mean. Sooner or later, somebody will recognize you."<br>"I'd say it's quite a wonder nobody recognized me when we were pretending to be lovebirds. But you're right. I'd say we spend those three days here, buy ourselves a new clothing and food, then go to the mountains."  
>"Sounds good to me." Anna agreed.<p>

_Prince's Keep  
><em> Massoix let the three man in and Hans smiled warmly to Mousac. The artillery commander still looked as if he feared the prince will execute him and Hans considered it vital to keep the image of caring, merciful ruler. Not to mention that he still needed Mousac and any actions against the man would stir up the artillerymen.  
>His expression turned into one of interest as two other men came in the room behind the major, one a Weste with artillery distinctions, another an Islander in Navy uniform. The former regarded Hans with awe that pleased the prince, the latter just saluted, like all of Hauser's men. Massoix quickly produced additional two chairs and poured the wine.<br>"I see it's some sort of a bigger case.", Hans noted and two men turned to the major. Massoix nodded.  
>"Well, yes, your grace. You see, gentlemen here, sergeant Lamasque and lieutenant Spitzer, they've got something I'd consider important."<br>"Indeed." He looked at the two and smiled warmly. "What is it, then, gentlemen?"  
>The two exchanged looks and Lamasque started unsurely.<br>"Well, sir, I mean, your grace, because… I mean, this ship that we were shooting at last night, sss… your grace. The rumor is it had prince Ferdinand aboard…?"  
>Hans nodded. Rumor mill was generally the only known way for information to move faster than by semaphores, so it was to be expected that the news had spread already. Apparently feeling a bit more sure now that prince agreed with him, Lamasque continued:<br>"So, your grace, the thing is: today's evening, me and Franz… that is, lieutenant Spitzer… were just walking around the port, killing time as usual, when we noticed this couple going down the pier. A man in navy suit and a girl by his arm, a pretty girl…" He stopped himself short and Spitzer picked up:  
>"We came a bit closer, your grace, and the two of them smelled impossibly with salt, as if they just exited the water. So I looked closer, and…" He shrugged unsurely. "Sir, I've served in the squadron with prince Ferdinand once and I'd swear it was him."<br>Hans narrowed his eyes and leaned closer.  
>"Are you sure?"<br>To Spitzer's credit, the man didn't even flinch.  
>"As sure as I could be in this light, sir."<br>Hans nodded again, leaning back and taking a sip of wine. So… was the man seeing things, or did Ferdinand somehow survive the storm? And who could this girl be? Hans dismissed his first idea as impossible and put the glass back on the desk.  
>"Alright, it's not impossible, so we'll have to check this. Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you for telling us about it."<br>They took it as clear indication to leave and the three of them stood up, bowed a bit and exited the room. Hans waved Massoix closer.  
>"Could you fetch me Dauchere, please?"<br>"Dauchere the police commander, you grace?", the butler asked in surprise.  
>"Yes. I believe he'd be the best man for the job."<p> 


	23. Chapter 23: The sides of conflict

_Weselton_

"_I'm stuck in a void of hopelessness/A maze, with all exits buried/A labyrinth without end…_"  
>Kristoff turned from the window and looked at Kai with one eyebrow raised.<br>"Were you drinking?", he asked cautiously. Kai blinked, looking at him over a glass of wine.  
>"No, no. It's just a poem I've read once."<br>"If you say so." Kristoff shrugged and looked out of the window again. The evening fell already, and the royal port bay was empty and quiet, save for watchmen marching along the pier. The lonely Arendelle ship was flanked by two Weselton man-of-war, the fact that, as Kristoff knew, worried the captain deeply. King Charles - or was he prince? It seemed like both terms were being used - assured Arendellans that this was just for their safety, but Kai finally managed to convinced him to send the ships away. Kind of. 'Tomorrow', Charles had said. Ha.  
>"I just thought it fits our current situation.", Kristoff heard behind himself.<br>"Really? Are you _that _despaired?"  
>"I don't know. Perhaps. We don't seem to be moving anywhere at all."<br>Kristoff nodded, because that much was true. The king continued to be the same annoying jerk he was on their first meeting, apparently going deaf any time Kai started to talk about the current state of affairs being kind of Weselton's fault as well. Prince Eric was impossible to find alone, and any time they tried to leave after the meetings, they were politely informed not to roam in the private wing of the castle, and that the crown prince was - _we're absolutely sorry about that, of course _- presently occupied. Any time they saw him, he was either with his father or his wife, and Arendellans weren't inclined to trust princess Margaret after Kristoff's discovery. Jeremiah Lee, Kai's father's spy in the court, proposed that he could take the message directly to the prince, but he wasn't really sure if he could manage to do this without outing himself, and none of the "diplomats" was ready to let go of advantage he could give them.  
>I bet Anna would find some way, Kristoff thought. Perhaps not the most subtle one, but still… He sighed. Was she safe? Elsa must had found her by now… right?<br>Knock on the door startled both of them and they exchanged looks.  
>"Lee?", Kristoff asked.<br>"Who else?"  
>When Kai opened the door, though, they were surprised to see a figure in round glasses, smiling a bit uncomfortably.<br>"Prince Eric." Kai said, quickly recovering. "Please, do come in."  
>"Thank you."<p>

Eric looked around the Diplomat's Apartment, as palace staff and residents called it. It was awfully cold in here, probably because of the open window. Two Arendellans seemed not to mind, one sitting close to it and another smiling politely, a glass of wine on the table behind him.  
>Having closed the door, Eric said:<br>"I've gotten your message… never minding the way it got into my room." He glared at them suspiciously, but both Arendellans looked like innocence personified at the insinuation behind this glare, so he sighed inwardly and let go of the matter. It was Hunter's business, after all, so Eric decided to ask about another thing:  
>"Did the staff really tell you that I'm constantly busy?"<br>Both of them nodded and Eric sighed, this time out loud.  
>"My father, I guess. I definitely didn't tell them to do so."<br>The closer one, baron Madsen, nodded, apparently more happy. He showed Eric a bottle of wine.  
>"Something to drink?"<br>A moment later the three of them sat by the table, wine in their hands, even though prince Kristoff didn't seem all that inclined to drink it.  
>"As you have already read in the letter", the baron started, "I'm looking for some way to end the conflict peacefully and, most important of all, quickly. The king, however…" He trailed off. Eric smiled sourly.<br>"Proves to be annoyingly impossible to negotiate with."  
>He almost chuckled, seeing Madsen's dumbstruck expression.<br>"I haven't met him _yesterday_, you know."  
>"Uhm, yes, of course." The baron nodded quickly. "So… well, I believe you understand that I'd much rather the negotiations reached some conclusions before, well…"<br>"Before Elsa decides she had enough.", the prince chipped in helpfully and from the glare he got from Madsen Eric deduced that they hadn't planned to intimidate him. It was a nice reminder, though, what would happen if the current situation didn't end soon.  
>"I'm afraid father doesn't see it that way", he admitted, "and while I'm ready to work out some sort of solution with you, I don't think he'll accept it."<br>"So… what is it that he wants to get from this?", Kristoff asked.  
>"How to put it…" Well, if they were planning to work together on it, let's be honest. "Entirety of the High Table and the Stone Streams."<br>"Ah… I'm afraid that's not really acceptable.", the baron said. "No offense meant, of course, but after the current conflict we might be rather distrustful of Weselton, and more so if you happened to take the best defensive position on our border."  
>Eric nodded.<br>"Alright, so assuming that, how about…"

Even with lots of goodwill on both sides, it still had to take time. It wasn't just a matter of borders, it was trade, diplomatic arrangements, compensations and a lot of other things. The sun was slowly climbing up as they finally finished the bottle and baron looked at the map.  
>"Well, at least that would be set", he said, pointing the finger at the line that divided two countries. Weselton would get all the High Table, instead of whatever part of it they had before, Arendellans would keep Stone Streams, and Tampani Trail would be no man's land, perhaps with both entrances frozen or buried to prevent any side from claiming it too easily.<br>"Yes, so it seems. I'll see if I could convince father to agree to it." Eric smiled sourly. "Don't count on much, though."  
>Arendellans nodded and Eric felt a burst of relief. At last they seemed to be moving somewhere… Kristoff, however, didn't seem entirely convinced.<br>"I just thought of it… there might be problems at home.", he said. Baron and Eric looked at him with surprise.  
>"Why?", the former asked.<br>"Anna… I mean, princess Anna. She's still missing and I bet some people will be saying that it was Weseltonians who kidnapped her to force something on us."  
>Princess Anna was missing? What?<br>"I'm… sure we didn't do anything of the sort."  
>"Well, you're not idiots." Kristoff noted, visibly cutting himself off before he could add 'apart from your father'. "But that's what people will think."<br>Eric nodded, realizing that the man was right. The peace would mean nothing if both sides eyed themselves suspiciously for the next years. And if somebody convinced queen Elsa that Weseltonians kidnapped her sister…  
>"I'll take a look at it", he said and hastily added, "but again - don't expect too much."<br>"Alright. Thanks."  
>They've exchanged goodbyes and Eric left. Walking, he wondered if there was any chance somebody from Weselton kidnapped the princess. Not his father, that he was sure of. Hunter? It certainly wasn't below him, but why would he do that? Margaret? What <em>was <em>in this letter that she sent from Confederacy? He sighed. I can't do this anymore, he thought, stopping by the door of his suite. I have to talk to her about it…  
>He entered the bedroom and saw her lying in the bed, breathing calmly. Tomorrow, he told himself, feeling tiredness, or… actually, today. Alright, I'll talk to her…<br>He just fell on his bed without bothering to change and slept after perhaps a minute. At some point, he half woke up and was sure he heard footsteps, but maybe it was just Margaret or one of the servants… he fell asleep again.

_Over the Tampani trail  
><em> Soren Nexø looked over the edge of the trail and hid his head immediately, then crawled back to the rest of his team.  
>"Lookouts", he said quietly. "No sliding back this way."<br>The three men nodded. By now, they all wore red uniforms of Weselton army under their own white camouflage coats, and had to take care not to show it, as the damn things were visible in current weather like lighthouses at night. The team got them from army's spares. The scout had sneaked into the wagon full of them one night, pretending to be local. It was impossible for him, however, to sneak in with four huge backpacks, which is why the charade was necessary.  
>"We're running out of time.", one private noted.<br>"I know, Aleksander. It's just that we can't find the right place, and the Weasels expect us to try something."  
>Aleksander nodded slowly.<br>"Alright", Nexø said, "let's try somewhere…"  
>"Sir!", another soldier, Lars, hushed, "Somebody's coming!"<br>They froze and Nexø looked cautiously in the direction the man pointed at. A moment later he nodded.  
>"It's fine. Out scout's back."<br>They relaxed a bit as the man, probably the oldest and the biggest of the bunch, crawled to them.  
>"I found something just lovely.", he said, grinning. "Since the army wants to be there as soon as they can, supply wagons moved to the sides of the trail to make way. One of them has some problem with its wheel, so it stopped, and guess what it's carrying."<br>"Gunpowder?", Nexø guessed, narrowing his eyes.  
>"Eeeexactly. And because the army won't make way for other wagons to pass, there's at least twenty of them behind it."<br>"Oh… I like it."  
>Nexø looked up. The sun hadn't rose over the mountains yet and it was still fairly dark, with everything hidden in deep shadow. The Weasels barely started moving, and the people by the wagons were likely to be annoyed with the delay rather than looking out to see if there's somebody sneaking up on them.<br>"Lead the way.", he told the scout and the man turned back, then started moving.

A few minutes later they found themselves looking from over the edge at the large wagon. There must had been at least a room's worth of gunpowder in there, enough to blow up part of the wall. And it was so close…  
>"Alright", he said, once they backed off a bit. "We're not going down. Those backpack are white, let's just slide them down.<br>"I'm not sure the cords will make it, sir.", private Aleksander said, taking his backpack off. He was their specialist in blowing things up, so Nexø was ready to take his word for it. Fine. So no tricky plan like this.  
>"Alright, then… Let's join those onlookers down there. You", he pointed at the scout, "cover us."<br>"Will be done, boss.", the man said, pulling out his crossbow.  
>Nexø and the rest snuck to the most shadowed area and slowly slid down the slope, with the scout looking around carefully. They took off their coats and joined a small crowd of onlookers. Lars, the only one of them to speak well with Weselton accent, asked a token questions of what's going on and the like and when the soldiers, laughing at the supply guys (who weren't happy about it in the slightest) were distracted by answering him, Aleksander slid his backpack under the broken wagon. The last member of the team, Rune, walked back a bit and left his by another one, then returned to Nexø.<br>"Ten minutes, sir", he hushed in his ear. Nexø nodded and waved to Lars to follow him.  
>"Yeah, yeah, captain will be pissed, sure…" the private made a show of it and then left with Nexø. The two of them started to look around, trying to find some way to leave their backpacks before the ones set by Rune and Aleksander go off. Nexø noticed a supply wagon on the other side of the trail. It seemed to be carrying food. He turned to talk to Lars, but the private was already making his way somewhere else. Great, he'll have to do it himself. He took his backpack off, and, shielding it from onlookers, lighted up the long cord. Great, now I have a bomb on my back, he thought, putting it back on. Alright, let's do it.<br>He cut through the stream of soldiers, apologizing with the closest thing to Weasels' accent he could do. It sounded as if he had a severe case of cold, but nobody seemed suspicious. He finally reached the wagon, looked around and, seeing no officer, smiled to the driver.  
>"Hey, I bet you've got some free space there, don't you?", he asked, still with the 'I've got cold' accent. The driver eyed him.<br>"Perhaps I do…"  
>Feeling the pressure of slowly burning cord, Nexø smiled and searched the pockets of his coat.<br>"That doesn't look standard issue coat.", the driver noticed and Nexø felt his heart freeze for a moment. Time, time, you're running out of time…  
>"It's much warmer", he said. "But don't tell the captain anything."<br>He finally managed to find to silvers. Driver tilted his head, then extended his hand.  
>"Sure thing. Give it here."<br>Nexø masked his relief and tried to keep calm pace as he left the wagon. A moment later, he found Lars and Aleksander, both of which were busy finding themselves as far from their bombs as possible.  
>"Where's Rune?"<br>"Already up." Aleksander answered. "I didn't manage in time, some officer arrived and started shouting at us."  
>"Good. How much time left?"<br>"Should be about five min…"  
><em>BOOM!<br>_ The three of them jumped and turned around. Nexø almost got heart attack when he realized it was his backpack. The explosion ripped the wagon open, left almost nothing of the driver, set what was left on fire and pierced everybody close to it with long pieces of wood. A moment of ringing silence and then Nexø heard the screams of the wounded and shouts of shock from everywhere around. The three Arendellans looked at each other and seeing the well, hidden satisfaction in privates' eyes, Nexø had to fight to keep his own terror from showing. Not that he cared about damn Weasels. Even though the screams were horrifying, he had ran out of goodwill a long time ago. It was a burst of fear of his own life. It must've been broken, he thought, it could've exploded on my back…  
>He glanced at what little was left of the driver and swallowed.<p>

It the chaos that ensued, they managed to sneak out undetected, with everybody else focused on the explosion. Rune and the scout helped them up and Nexø turned and looked down, at people scuttling, looking around, screaming and trying to help their wounded comrades.  
>"Sir, we might have a problem.", Lars said and pointed with his chin at the wagon they rigged first. Somebody was looking under it, and Nexø heard a curious shout as the backpack was pulled out.<br>"Ah, damn it.", Aleksander said, more disappointed than worried.  
>"It might still work…", Nexø answered him, then blinked as he noticed another person, a short man with a beard. His uniform and horse just screamed 'I'm important!'. The soldier who found the backpack turned to him and shown it to the officer.<br>"And who would that man be…?", Nexø started to ask and…  
><em> BOOM!<br>_ Yet another explosion sent everyone down there on their feet, followed closely by…  
><em> BOOOOM!<br>_ …as the powder exploded.  
>Thick cloud of smoke enveloped everything and Nexø smiled grimly, high-fiving Aleksander. The explosions specialist grinned.<br>"Absolutely lovely!"  
>"Just wait for it…" Rune smiled as well, despite the screams of pain and shock.<br>_BOOM!  
>BOOOOM! THUMP!<em>  
>"What was that?"<br>"Cannonballs, sir."  
>"Nice! Lars?"<br>"Musket ammuni…"  
><em>BOOOOOM!<br>_ And countless _pat-pat-pat_ as the ammunition flew in all directions like a giant grapeshot.  
>"Good job, people!", Nexø said and the four of them looked of a moment before moving back. Aleksander stopped after a meter or two.<br>"Sir, I think I hear another explosions."  
>Nexø smiled.<br>"Must be other teams. Good to know they're working as well."

It took some time before they were sure they couldn't be seen, but finally they stood up and started going back to Arendelle line. Nexø trotted up to the scout.  
>"Any idea who was this higher-up we've bagged?", he asked.<br>"I have my suspicions, boss, although it might be just wishful thinking on my part."  
>"Still, tell me."<br>"I'd say the man was general Potter."  
>Nexø blinked, then smiled. Whoa.<p>

_Tampani trail  
><em> When Vincent Meyers returned from his patrol, he found a disaster. There was smoke everywhere, people were running, others were screaming, smell of powder filled the air and some wagons looked as if they blew up. What happened?  
>He finally managed to find Jenkins and ask him.<br>"Merchies sneaked up on us", Bob answered, trying to clean ash off his face. "They laid the bombs."  
>"And nobody noticed them?"<br>"No… general's furious."  
>"Which one?"<br>"Windsor… we can't find general Potter anywhere."  
>Oh dear. Meyers took a sip from his canteen and shared it with Jenkins, who drank greedily. Vincent looked around. Damn merchies. Tricky as usual… They must've killed like three hundred people, if not more.<p>

"Six hundred dead!", general Windsor said, looking at the captain. Meyers had a bad luck of being close when the conversation started. "How could you people miss something like this?!"  
>"The same way Arendellans miss us when we're sneaking up on them." The captain's face looked unperturbed, although he was gripping his sword strong enough for his knuckles to turn white. "Only we didn't think about explosives."<br>He took a breath, then added:  
>"And we <em>did <em>catch some of them. Sadly, none was taken alive."  
>The general snorted and shook his head, then clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. Vincent had to give him this, he at least tried not to explode. It seemed he might even talk calmly with the captain, when some soldier approached. The youth saluted, visibly shaken.<br>"Ssssir, we… I mean… general Potter is… dead, sir. His remains…"  
>General Potter was dead? Damn you, merchies. You're way too lucky!<br>Windsor closed his eyes and nodded, then dismissed the soldier with a wave of hand.  
>"I see… Well, it seems like I became the only leader of this army…"<br>Vincent noticed with a bit of dark humor that on general's face shock and terror seemed to combat a slight relief. Windsor nodded again and sat down.  
>"Alright. Merchies had their turn. Time for payback."<p> 


	24. Chapter 24: Kill it with fire

_Entrance to the Tampani trail; "Point Tampani"_  
>"It's good you're back", said colonel Dahl as Nexø saluted upon entering the tent. "The scouts told me you've killed a whole lot of bastards. Good job."<br>"Thank you, sir.", captain answered, gratefully taking the cup of steaming tea from the hands of Dahl's aide.  
>"What's the state of your forces?", the colonel asked.<br>"Well, sir…" He swallowed, looking into the cup. "I know two teams didn't make it, and other teams lost twenty seven people in total. Also, three teams still haven't returned."  
>And were unlikely to do so, Nexø thought, but I figure one should have hope… Pff. He felt himself shaking a bit, adding it all up. Fifty two people in total. Another fifty two dead, dead whom he should have protected, to whom he <em>promised…<em>  
>"Captain."<br>He looked up. Dahl's face was the usual image of sleepiness, although his eyes were wary.  
>"I believe you are exhausted. You and your people managed to slow Weasels enough to grant us at least one more day. I suggest you take some sleep before they arrive. You certainly need it."<br>Nexø nodded quickly.  
>"Of course. Thank you, sir."<br>Dahl nodded.  
>"You can keep the cup for now. Just keep it away from Lund, he broke two already."<br>Nexø smiled dutifully, saluted and exited the tent.

_High Table  
><em> A convoy was making its way through the half-frozen landscape, a few dozen wagons of weaponry, ammunition, and, above all, food. On the huge plateau, it looked more than a little lost, and the commander of cavalry screen that was tasked to protected knew perfectly how far it was from help if anything had happened. The steadily falling darkness did little to diminish his fears - quite the contrary, to be honest. He couldn't help but think of all the ways merchie raiders could use this darkness to their advantage.  
>The convoy's commander approached him on his horse.<br>"Hey, Harrison, I'd say it's about time we stopped for the night, isn't it?", the man asked quite cheerfully. "No point tiring people and horses."  
>Captain Harrison glared at him and shook his head. Convoy chief looked at him in surprise.<br>"Are you kidding me? In this conditions, on this ground? Horses will break their legs."  
>"If we stop for the night, we'll be like sitting ducks for merchies.", the captain said. "I'd much rather we encountered some of our own patrols before anything happened." He was rather worried about that last one. He heard about this monumental stupidity that was general Potter insisting on accompanying Windsor in his attack against Arendelle, but surely the fool had left someone behind to watch his back? And yet, the patrols hadn't met anybody so far.<br>Convoy chief raised his eyebrow and looked around.  
>"Merchie raiders? Here? Look, I know they've been here, but they arrived some time ago already, and ours had well cut them from the rest of their army. I'd say they must be running low on food…"<br>He stopped talking as Harrison slowly looked at the food stocked on the wagons behind him.  
>"Then shouldn't we be the <em>obvious <em>target?" he asked acidly, looking back at the convoy chief. "You know, seeing how the alternative for them would be to attack military base?"  
>The man shrugged.<br>"Alright. I'll tell the people to arm up and be careful." He rode off, apparently still convinced that commander of his escort was jumping at shadows. The captain shook his head and looked around, trying to find some of his men in the quickly falling darkness. He had more problems with it than he hoped to.

Less than half a mile away, two Arendelle soldiers were scanning the convoy with spyglasses, all but invisible in the dark. They were distinctly unhappy at what they were seeing.  
>"Well, that one seems to have his head where it should be.", the senior one said. His companion nodded.<br>"The general won't like it."  
>"No, I don't think so. On the other hand, it's not our thing to decide, is it?"<br>They looked at each other and shrugged. Silence fell again.  
>So far, the tiny Fourth Corps managed to find and ambush one Weasel convoy. It's commander's rather… flippant attitude regarding security was a godsend to Arendellans, as the escort and the convoy personnel, having no plans in place in case of enemy attack, were too busy panicking to do anything unpleasant, like setting the carts on fire. Sadly, it turned out the convoy carried mostly ammunition, and precious little in the way of food. While soldiers were rather happy to replenish their crossbow bolts' stockpiles (the muskets had already broken in face of weather conditions), they were being constantly reminded by their stomachs that they were still hungry.<br>This convoy, though, promised a change in state of affairs. Arendellans were following it since early afternoon, when they first spotted it, and they already determined that majority of it was food for enemy who was already experiencing shortages. If Arendellans managed to take it, they would not only fill their own stomachs, but also deal a possibly devastating blow to Weasel army.  
>Of course, that was provided that they could win before somebody thought about burning it all.<br>The two soldiers observed the passing convoy for some time already, before the stomach of one of them rumbled loudly. Another looked at him with ghost of a smile.  
>"Okay", he said, "let's get back and report. No point in staying here, they'll be past us in a moment."<br>The junior one nodded and the two of them backed off quickly, on their way passing the mortal remains of the mounted scout who came too close to them for their liking.

"Well, we don't really have much choice.", general Berg said, looking into the night. A cover of clouds hanged high in the air, depraving anybody on the plateau of moon- and starlight, leaving all in the ink-dark night. The perfect time for an ambush, even though the High Table, with its lack of any sort of hills or holes, was definitely not a perfect place.  
>"Are we all going?", one of the colonels, Hansen, asked, looking at the map, the lamp in his head shielded by his body from any onlookers. Berg shook his head.<br>"I'd rather leave half of the Corps", the name was becoming more laugh-inducing with every passing day, "in reserve. We're going to do it like this…"  
>Quickly, the plan was drafted. A moment later the lights were doused, the officers scattered, and the regular chaos of organizing the military operation began in utter, abnormal silence. Less than an hour later, the Arendellans disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind them only the trampled icy mud as proof of their presence.<p>

It was time for the guard shift and cavalrymen, until that moment resting on the moving wagons, got on their horses and left to relieve the others. Seeing them leave, Harrison felt his fear rising. Right now, his forces by the convoy were the weakest; if the merchies chose to attack now…  
>The sight of horsemen in the distance, emerging from the darkness as if from some thick fog, had him on the edge before they came closer and he recognized his own men. They didn't report anything, neither friends nor foe, and while the latter was a good thing, the former was becoming more and more worrying. Surely they had to be in the range of army's screen. Either they lost their way catastrophically, the local commander was an idiot, or… or merchies killed all the scouts.<br>He felt a tingling in the back of his head, like an awareness that something was wrong, without being quite sure what it was. He looked at his men and counted them quickly. When he did it again, it dawned on him.  
>"Who's missing?", he asked a bit louder. The cavaliers looked at him in surprise and then started to look at each other, counting and calling the names of their friends. In the end, it turned out that four of them were missing. Perhaps they were just late. And perhaps…<br>"Keep your eyes open", Harrison said. "And weapons ready."  
>They nodded and armed themselves, looking around and trying to pierce the darkness. The captain cursed the sounds of the hooves and sleigh on the ice-mud. In his ears, they seemed louder than a passing parade, drowning any sounds that might be useful. He felt the darkness pushing on him, like a physical mist that could hide anything inside, and he would swear…<br>"Captain?" He almost jumped, hearing convoy chief's voice behind him. "What's going on?"  
>He turned to berate the man for asking stupid questions… and couldn't, because this stupid question saved his life.<br>_BOINGGG! _The crossbow bolt hit his helmet where his forehead was just seconds ago and bounced off harmlessly. He turned immediately, looking around, and whizzes cut the air as another crossbows shot all around. Some of his men were lucky - some weren't. He heard the screams of his men falling and frantically scanned the area, looking for the attackers. But all was darkness…  
>"George!", he snapped to the nearest unharmed cavalryman. "Break out!"<br>The man stopped just for a moment before nodding. They talked about it. If somebody attacked, ten people were to make a run for it, trying to break out and warn Weselton… No time for it now. George waved to his man, leaned over the horse as another crossbows flew by, and kicked the horse into gallop. Harrison nodded and looked back to the fight that was just starting to unfold.  
>We have to find them, he thought and shook his head as another bolt hit the helmet. He took his own crossbow off the back and fired in direction the shot came from. He heard a silent scream there. Good, but not good enough. We're completely blind…<br>He kicked the horse and ran to convoy chief.  
>"I need light!"<br>"What?", the man asked in surprise, his eyes wide open with fear.  
>"Light! Light the torches and thrown them out, we have to see…"<br>His horse jerked suddenly and screamed. Harrison looked at it and noticed the arrow sprouting from its side with terror. He looked back at the chief.  
>"Hurry!", he screamed at him and jumped off the horse, climbing up on top of the cart with the crossbow.<br>For a long time - it had to be eternity - everything was just whizzles of bolts flying to all sides and screams of men. Merchies started screaming as well, as his own men collected themselves and started to return fire. Harrison himself was lying flat on the top of the cart, firing back where the bolts came from. Suddenly, he heard sounds of skirmish behind him and turned around. He saw only chaos in the dark, but judging by the sounds, some of his men had found the merchies and were now attacking them.  
>A moment later, the first torchlight was thrown away and the captain narrowed his eyes, looking out. More and more and more lights were making their way out of the caravan, despite the merchies' attempts to kill the people who set them. The captain smiled grimly. Finally! We can see the bastards and we can kill them…<br>His heart sank when he saw just how many of them were there. It had to be at least three times as much as Weseltonians had, and Harrison's forces were already surrounded… He crawled to look down, where caravan chief, blood streaming down on his face, looked at approaching merchies with something approaching panic. Captain looked up and cursed. The merchies were already moving forward, closing the cordon around the caravan… Only one thing left to do, then.  
>"Light 'em up!", he called down. Caravan chief looked at him, wiping the blood off his face.<br>"What?"  
>"The carts! Set the carts on fire!"<br>The man nodded and, instead of throwing the torchlight in his hand away, put it into the cart.  
>The captain got on his feet, made two steps and jump off the wagon just as the canvas caught fire, outlining the caravan chief's silhouette. A moment later Harrison heard a scream and looked around, only to see the man toppling to the ground, arrow in the side of his head. He didn't have time to care, though, because he heard the tramping of the hooves and turned back to see merchie cavalrymen running into the camp, their swords bare. Great, and I'm horseless, he thought, jumping on unlit cart and crouching, drawing sword.<br>When first merchie ran past him, Harrison jumped and thrown the man off the horse. The two of them landed on the ground and the captain pierced the men with the sword, then thrown him off himself. He quickly rolled out of the way of the next horse, and saw the raider on it look at him with fires of burning cart reflecting in merchie's eyes… The man jumped off his horse and before the captain could stand up…  
>There was a sword in his stomach. The raider took it out after a moment and jumped back on the horse. The captain grabbed the wound, trying to stop the bleeding somehow, but it was gushing blood, and soon his hands were wet and he couldn't do anything to stop it and the world around him seemed to be in some odd haze…<br>I'll just close my eyes for a moment, he told himself. Just for a moment…

General Berg rode into what used to be Weasels' caravan and winced, smelling the smoke and burning wood. The colonel who led the attack greeted him with a salute and Berg noticed the bandage holding the left hand.  
>"Sir", Hansen said. "We've captured the caravan, but they managed to destroy some carts. We've salvaged majority of them, but still… I'm sorry, sir."<br>"Nothing to be sorry for, I don't think anybody expected Weasels to continue being idiots." He indicated the wounded arm with his chin. "What happened to it?"  
>The man shrugged.<br>"Stupid accident, sir. I fell off the damn horse." He looked at the animal with annoyance. Berg tried hard not to smile and masked it with looking around. He sobered up immediately, noticing the bodies on the ground, in white and red uniforms, intermingled with dead horses. He looked back up.  
>"Alright. Anyway, good job, Hansen. Let's round up the remaining horses, harness them to the wagons, salvage what we can from those wrecks and be off before the sunrise."<br>"Yes, sir." Hansen turned back and started shouting orders. The men complied immediately and Berg observed the organized chaos for a while before remembering about one more thing.  
>"Had anybody escaped?", he asked Hansen. The colonel narrowed his eyes.<br>"I've sent search parties to look for anybody who might've slipped between us, sir.", he answered.  
>"Good."<p>

Lieutenant George Gardner leaned forward in his horse, wishing Traveller could go faster. Not much… just a little bit would be a godsend. His heart jumped as he heard the whizz of a crossbow bolt flying by and he gripped the reins stronger, tugging the horse to the side to evade another shot. Successfully, but sharp turn slowed Traveler down even more. George glanced back and swallowed hard, seeing the pursuit so close he could see the white of their faces. He turned back forward and hushed a few encouraging words to Traveler. The horse didn't answer, visibly tired. He's growing weak, Gardner realized, looking back again and pulling the horse to the left just as the crossbow was to hit his back. I won't make it, he thought in panic, I won't be able to lose them… Think, man, think! The captain depends on you!  
>Alright, I've got to be tricky, got to be tricky… Okay, Traveler, let's hope we can still do this trick… As another bolt flew by, he pulled the reins strongly and kicked the same side of the horse. Traveler read the clue correctly and artistically feigned falling on the ground. Gardner barely had time to pull his legs out of the stirrups as the animal landed. He hit the mud a moment later and had to fight for his breath for a while before finally managing to take one. Great, great… He opened his eyes and patted Traveller on the neck.<br>"Shshsh…", he told him. Hearing his heart pounding in his chest, he took a deep breath, then turned to have his head in the mud, as if he landed that way.  
>He heard eight hooves pounding the ground. A while later they stopped.<br>"And?", one man said, his voice muffled through the mud.  
>"Well, he looks dead to me."<br>"Shouldn't we check?"  
>To George's terror, he heard the boots hitting the ground. One part of him wanted to grip the sword immediately and kill his pursuers, while another urged to stay unmoving, feigning dead until the danger passed. The steps closed.<br>"Just look at him." He almost jerked, hearing the voice close to his ear. "He fell face in the mud. Must've suffocated by now."  
>George felt as if he was suffocating right now. They must be toying with me, he thought, there's no way they can't hear this pounding in my ears… Don't move… don't move…<br>"Better check."  
>"Right."<br>He didn't even have time to brace when he got a kick in the ribs. He landed on his back, trying not to clench his teeth, trying not to move, trying not to breathe, not to feel the mud in his mouth and eyes and nose, and the pain…  
>"Freakin' rag doll.", the merchie noted. "Nah, he's dead for sure."<br>His heart seemed like the loudest sound around. Please, just go away… I have to take a breath… go away…  
>"What do we do with the horse?"<br>"Just leave it. We don't have time to lead it behind us, the colonel must be getting pissed off by now."  
>He waited for some time more, unsure whether they left or not, until he couldn't stand it anymore. He opened his mouth to take a breath, then started coughing the mud out of it, then swallowed a gulp of air, opened his eyes, blinked a few times and looked around, dreading the sound of crossbow or horse hooves.<p>

But there was only silence and light wind blowing in his face. He breathed deeply and caught his side. It hurt as hell. I hope it's not a broken rib, he thought, standing slowly on his knees. He turned and looked at Traveler. The horse answered with passive stare, still panting heavily. George crawled to it and leaned his back on horse's side.  
>"Alright.", he told the animal. "Let's take a few minutes' rest and go. Rollinson Gate. We'll find backup there and kick those sorry bastards off our land."<br>Traveler didn't seem particularly interested in his words, but Gardner didn't hold it against him.

_Point Tampani  
><em>"Sir? Sir, wake up!"  
>Hjorth's voice is unusually cheerful, Nexø thought, blinking and finally opening his eyes. Something must've happened. Maybe the Weasels finally decided to go home? That would be nice.<br>He rolled in his bunk and sat up, straightening the uniform he slept in. Lars and lieutenant Hjorth were standing in his tent, the former holding a steaming cup of tea. Nexø thanked, taking it from him, and took a sip. He winced. It was more like hot, flavored water, but well - it was war after all. Tea probably wasn't very high on Supplies' shopping list.  
>"What's going on?", he asked, waiting for the tea… water… to cool down into state of drinkability.<br>"Scouts say the Weasels are starting to move towards the Trap." Hjorth said. "Captain Riis suggested you probably wouldn't like to miss it."  
>"No, I sure wouldn't." Nexø put the cup on the table and stood up, then fixed his uniform. "Stupid question, but do I look fine?"<br>"Like a rising sun, sir.", Lars assured him. "Shiny and pretty."  
>Both officers looked at the private with "what the hell" expressions on their faces.<br>"Oh… kay." Hjorth finally said. "Poetic soul, I see."  
>"Let's go.", Nexø added before Lars' face started turning red.<p>

Outside, the camp was its usual flurry of morning activity, although people kept on glancing west, where the entrance to the trail was. Hjorth and Lars led Nexø towards the stone wall, where wooden ladder was built to help people climb on it. The captain went first. On the top, he saw Riis. The man waved to him with wide grin on his face.  
>"Get here", he told Nexø. "You came just in time for the party."<br>"Did I? Then why isn't the camp on the alert?" Nexø asked, lying flat on the rock and crawling up to Riis.  
>"It's getting to it", the captain answered him. "Just silently, so that the Weasels won't be alarmed themselves."<br>"Nice.", Nexø admitted, taking the spyglass and looking forward. He couldn't see much behind the sharp turn of the trail, but it was sure that the Weasels were there, their sounds an odd, distorted mirror reflection of ones coming from Arendellan camp. "Did we engage them already?"  
>"Only the scouts. Light casualties."<br>Does 'light' mean three or thirty dead scouts?, Nexø asked himself, putting the spyglass down. Too much. Too much…  
>Perhaps you should've joined diplomatic corps, not the army, he snickered at himself and looked at Riis. The man seemed to be enjoying the morning, going as far as to chew on the sandwich. Nexø's stomach rumbled a bit, but captain ignored it and asked instead:<br>"Cord ready?" Riis swallowed a piece of bread and answered:  
>"Ready." He showed him the thin black string he held in his other hand. "Just gimme a sign."<br>"Well, it'll sure be…"  
>He didn't finish. Clear and loud, the all-too-familiar bugles of Weasel army sounded and after the fights in the Streams, Nexø knew what they meant.<br>"Any moment now…" He murmured, noticing that Riis threw away his sandwich and pulled out the matches. Any moment now…  
>He heard the pounding of the hooves.<br>"Light the match!", he snapped and saw a flickering light to the side a moment later.  
>The Weasels appeared in the canyon and Nexø took a deep breath of shock. He saw them speeding down in the Streams - but not in so wide a row. They hadn't looked so huge then… so unstoppable. They did now and for a moment, the only thing he could think of was that his men down there were very much screwed.<br>Common sense reasserted itself a second later. It's up to you, he reminded himself, a pound of hooves in his ears like a thousand drums. His eyes found the mark he left in the ice when they were planting the trap.  
>"Anddddd…" A deep breath. The first horseman galloped past the mark. "Light it up."<br>Riis just nodded and put the match to the cord. Nexø smelled it burning and…

Nobody was quite sure how much gunpowder, one thing they had in excess, they buried under the mud and snow in the Tampani trail. There were enough waterproof sacks to make a layer three bags deep, as wide as the trail at this point, and at least five horsemen long. Nexø worried all the time that something - either supposedly-waterproof cord or supposedly-waterproof bags - would soak, rendering the entire trap a huge waste of time and powder, and the four seconds it took for the cord to burn stretched into infinity, the thoughts of failure flying through his head.  
>He was proven pessimistic, though.<br>The two captains jumped on their feet as the humongous explosion shook the earth, a wave of heat hit their faces, and the loudest sound in the world assaulted their ears. Thick cloud of smoke covered everything, spreading up and out and consuming everything into the dense black fog. Moment later Nexø more felt than heard a low rumble, but even though he tried to peek though the smoke, everything was hidden. His ears seemed to be ringing, and black spots that had nothing to do with powder danced in front of his eyes. He finally managed to crawl forward and look down.  
>A man stumbled out of the fog, in tattered red uniform, all covered in blood. Nexø started to take his musket off his back, but didn't manage to do it before the Weasel stumbled on the ground, seemingly pouring blood from everywhere. Nexø looked at the dead for a while. So that what the "lucky" ones looked like… He wasn't quite sure he wanted the smoke to dissolve. He patted his ears. Why couldn't he hear anything apart from this ringing?<br>He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back. Riis was saying something, grinning, but curiously, his mouth seemed to make no sound.  
>"I can't hear you.", Nexø said. Riis narrowed his eyes, then pointed at his ear and shook his head. He can't hear anything either, Nexø thought, putting his hands to the sides of his mouth and screaming:<br>"I can't hear you!"  
>Riis nodded after a moment and pointed somewhere towards the trail.<br>"I thing we overdid it!" Nexø heard the scream like a quietest whisper. He looked at where Riis was pointing and opened his eyes in shock. The wind up there was blowing the smoke off, revealing the wall of the canyon.  
>Or rather, a lack of it.<p>

Well, Nexø thought, it'll be just a bit harder for them to attack us now, seeing how we've just buried the entrance under at least two meters of rock.

""""

_So, you might've already guessed that we're slowly approaching the finale of the story._

_Yes, I like big booms, and so far I had way too few opportunities to blow things up. Don't you worry, though - it wasn't the last one you'll see here._


	25. Chapter 25: Fugitives

_Westerguard  
><em> It was raining, giving Anna an excuse to pull the hood of recently-bought cape over her head. She still felt horribly exposed whenever she left the room in the town, imagining Hans or some lackey of his walking closer only to discover her and scream "_guards!_". She didn't really know how this imaginary lackey could recognize her, but she still felt grateful for the rain that let her hide her face.  
>And a good thing she did, too, because moments later, two men in navy uniforms emerged from an alley next to her. Over the past two days her Islander became more proficient - mostly because Ferdinand, with nothing to do, insisted on teaching her as to not to bore himself to death, and because the language was basically just another dialect of Confederate language, which was a must-have among the rich and the powerful. Therefore, she understood the general gist of the conversation.<br>"…and Prince's looking for somebody.", one of the navy men said, playing with his knife in unnerving fashion.  
>"Really? Haven't heard of that." His companion was glanced at the knife time after time.<br>"Well, that's 'cause they want to keep it secret, you know."  
>"Oh, so how do you know about it?"<br>"I've been drinking with one of them city guards. He was so full of alcohol you wouldn't believe he's still standing." The sailor laughed and put the knife back in its sheath. "Anyway, he said they're looking for a man and a girl, only they wanna keep it secret, don't know why."  
>" 'Man and a girl'? Damn, that's helpful as hell.", the other one answered. "If I was walking a step closer to that girl here, they could arrest me and her."<br>Anna glanced at him and moved away a step. The Knife laughed and patted his companion on the arm.  
>"Nah, he gave more specific description. Both of them tall, like us, one a girl with golden hair and bright eyes, one redhead guy with green eyes."<br>Anna swallowed, thankful for the hood covering her braided hair.  
>"And that's supposed to narrow it?"<br>"Well, they travel together, so I guess?" The Knife shrugged and looked up, shielding his eyes. "Dammit, it looks like yet another serious storm here…"  
>The two of them sped up, probably to their ship. A moment later a lightning struck somewhere up on the mountain and Anna used it as an excuse to break into sprint.<p>

She opened the door to their room, only to be nearly hit with a flying stick. Her heels screeched to a halt and she nearly shouted before noticing Ferdinand, standing in the center of the room with apologetic expression.  
>"What were you doing?", she asked, taking the stick - removed from a short broom, she noticed - off the floor and closing the door behind her.<br>"Sorry… I was just trying to learn… re-learn… how to fence." He looked at his left hand. "You're useless.", he hissed to it.  
>"Whoa, calm down. Wouldn't it be better for you to start with… I don't know, writing?", Anna asked, putting the stick on the table. "Especially seeing how you don't have a sword right now."<br>She opened the wardrobe and put out a pile of clothes and a bag she bought the day before.  
>"Anyway, that's not really important right now."<br>"Why, what's going on?" Ferdinand asked from behind her, looking over her arm.  
>"Hans is looking for us. I think it's about time we left the city, or at least this place."<br>"Alright."  
>He started to help her pack their things - the little they had- even though his method was just to push them into the bag and keep on pushing until the next one could feet in. He tried to button it as well, but Anna finally did it for him. He cursed quietly, shooting a glare at a stump of his right arm before he grabbed the stick.<br>"And what's that for?", Anna asked. She almost added 'you can't use it anyway', but stopped herself halfway. He must've realized what she wanted to say, though, because he gave her the stick.  
>"Seeing how you managed to knock out an adult man with a chair leg, I figure you could use it."<br>"Oh. Thanks." She took it and tried to shove it into the bag as well, but any way she tried, it kept on sticking out. She finally pulled Ferdinand's sword belt out of the bag and put it on, then attached the stick to it. The prince nearly chuckled, seeing this.  
>"Alright, you're armed. So now what?"<br>"I guess we should leave separately.", she answered. He narrowed his eyes, then nodded in understanding.  
>"We meet on this road up the mountain?"<br>"Yes, I guess so. By the giant tree. You won't miss it."  
>"Okay."<br>"Also, don't hide your stump."  
>"What? No!" He covered it with his hand, looking at her with anger. "Why would I show it to anybody?!"<br>Anna sighed, resting her forehead on the bag.  
>"Ferdinand, they're looking for a tall man with red hair and green eyes. You fit all three points, so you have to make people focus more on other things, and this will definitely catch everybody's attention."<br>"And mark me as a freak!"  
>"Do you <em>really <em>care what do they think about you?"  
>"Yes, I do!"<br>Anna looked at him. He was pressing the stump to his body with his other hand, looking at her with anger.  
>"Really?" She sighed. "Why would you care?"<br>"Because…"  
>He stopped. A moment later, he turned away from her.<br>"Alright. Let's do it."  
>"Thank you."<p>

They decided to have an half-an-hour break between each of them leaving. Anna exited the room first, figuring she'd be less likely to catch anybody's attention than one-handed man. She took the bag, put it as to cover the stick - which made it hurt her leg - and walked down the stairs into the bar. She froze in the shadow next to the staircase, looking at three men in city guard uniforms talking with the innkeeper. The woman was explaining something to them in Weste, finishing with pointing upstairs.  
>I'm too late, Anna thought as the two of the guardsmen started to go to the staircase. She quickly assessed her options. She could run upstairs and warn Ferdinand, but she'd have perhaps three seconds' worth of head start and once in the room, both she and the prince would be trapped. She could try taking one of the men out with the stick, but this way she'd be cornered by the other, and the bats in their hands looked like they knew how to use them. Still, she couldn't just run. She had to buy Ferdinand some time…<br>The two guardsmen passed Anna, shadow hiding her well. She pulled out the stick and when the latter was passing her on the stairs, she tripped him with the stick. He cursed and started to fall on the first guardsman. Before they collided, Anna ducked under the stairs, clutching the stick in her hands. She heard the bang over her head as the man landed on the wood and winced, hearing his painful "ouch!". The first one told him something - she imagined it was about clumsiness - and the latter started cursing loudly. As they returned to going up, he wasn't getting any more silent.  
>Anna hoped she could do more, but there wasn't much. She looked to the back of the inn, remembering that the supplies hadn't been arriving through the main door. Indeed, there was a back exit. She glanced back at the innkeeper, the third guardsman and people in the bar, who were joking among themselves at the expense of the two guardsmen, then darted to the back door. She carefully pressed the handle, hoping they'd be open. They weren't. She looked at the bar again, but so far, it seemed nobody noticed her. She looked to the side and entered the room that was there. It proven to be storage, with no windows. She went through it to the next door and entered the kitchen, in which a woman was standing, mixing something in a huge pot. Anna hid behind the table and heard the woman asking something - "who's that", perhaps? After a moment, though, the cook must've decided that it was just rain and she returned to the job. Anna nodded to herself and looked around. There was a huge window and it was open, despite the rain outside. Anna only had to get to it and she'd be out of the place - only she had to do it when the cook wasn't looking.<p>

Ferdinand was walking in circles around the room, too stressed to sit down and wait. He caught himself on counting seconds in his head, as if that was supposed to speed up the half an hour he and Anna had agreed upon. Not that any of them had a clock.  
>He stopped when he heard loud curses in Weste. He pressed his ear to the door and listened to the steps. Sitting in the room all the time, he learned to recognize the footsteps of everybody in the corridor, and those sounds were new. Either somebody arrived and bought a room, or…<br>He took a breath and looked around the room. No point taking chances, especially as it was two Weste, judging by the voices. Now, what should he do? Right, right… He jumped to the wardrobe and opened it wide, then did the same with all the drawers, then messed up the quilt and slid under the bed. The quilt slid down on both sides, covering him partly, and he froze there, looking towards the door. He tried to make it look as if he and Anna had already left - he just hoped the two Weste would fall for it.  
>He almost jumped, hearing the loud and insistent knocking on the door. He didn't say a word. A moment later, the door opened and two pairs of shoes entered. Ferdinand assessed the steps as belonging to heavy boots, the type that city guards all around the Islands seemed fond of using. He waited there as two men talked in Weste. The fact that he couldn't understand what they were saying was driving him crazy. Were they falling for his trick? Or was he a step from being discovered? He wanted to tell the two men to shut up and do something, but he just put his hand over his face and kept silent. A moment later the steps started going around the room examining drawers, rummaging in the empty wardrobe, opening and presumably looking out of the window. Okay, now get to the obvious conclusions and be out. Now.<br>Finally, the steps stopped. Ferdinand held his breath again, hoping that the two of them would decide on leaving. The Weste started to talk among each other… Ferdinand's heart stopped as he heard the sounds of one of them approaching and crouching by the bed. Oh, no. Why couldn't they be idiots just this one time?  
>The quilt was pulled up and a man shoved his head inside, eyes unaccustomed to darkness.<br>A sailor for the last twelve years, Ferdinand was no wimp, even one-handed, and he had enough force to catch the man by his hair and knock him face-first into the floor. The guardsman's eyes widened as he tried to bring his hands into the small space. Ferdinand knocked him again, then turned and kicked the man with full force. The guardsman yelped and slumped on the ground. Ferdinand turned again and slid from under the bed. The man's companion was just leaning down to see what's happening and he was rewarded with kick to the face that sent him back with a nauseating crack of broken nose. Ferdinand tried to pull himself up, only to fall on his right… where his right hand should be. He cursed the damn stump again and looked up just in time to see the guard pulling out his bat, staggering and holding the bleeding nose. Ferdinand slid to him, thankful for whatever the cleaner used on the floor, and cut the man's legs from under him, then caught his wrist and pressed until the man let go of the bat. Then he started to push the man to the floor. The guardsman tried to stand up and he threw Ferdinand off him, so the prince caught him by the neck and pressed to the ground again. He might be one-handed, but he held a huge size advantage over the Weste. He thrown him into the floor, then again, and after the third hit the man stopped moving.  
>Ferdinand finally leaned back on the bed's leg - it was hard to stand up when he had only one hand to support himself with - and looked on his handiwork. Two men lay unconscious on the floor, beaten up but alive. Ferdinand was tempted to take the second one's bat, but he thought better of it. He didn't know how to use it with his left hand, and with city guard's weapon he'd be bound to raise suspicions.<br>No time for that!, he told himself, standing up with help of the bed. He finally managed it, then looked out of the window. It was raining slowly and he spoke a quick thankful prayer to the Almighty for this luck - nobody outside heard them. He looked back around the room, shoved the two guards under the bed and put on the hood of his coat. Leaving all messed up, he left, closing the doors behind him with the key.  
>In the corridor, he looked around quickly, but it seemed nobody paid attention to him - actually, there was nobody here at all. He walked downstairs, glancing to the sides and stooping to look shorter. Nobody in the bar paid him any attention and the innkeeper was busy talking and making sweet eyes to another man in city guard suit, who seemed completely enamored with her. Good luck for you, Ferdinand thought with a thankful smile, exiting the place.<br>His heart jumped when he was grabbed immediately and then he cursed and let out an undignified squeal of pain as somebody squeezed his right arm. He looked to see another man in guard suit and he brought to bear the accent Gunther, his first on _Northern Wind_, got… used to get after too much beer.  
>"Mah, wat's 'rong wiff ya? Canchya look 'fore ya grab?"<br>The guard let him go with a start and Ferdinand rubbed his arm. Damn, it _did _hurt.  
>"Oh… sorry, mister. We're looking for a couple of runaways."<br>"Imma no runaway, mah, and ya musta drank waaay too much if ya see me asa couple!"  
>"Yes, I see. Sorry to disturb you, mister." The guard moved away, clearly apologetic.<br>"Ya well shoubbe!" Ferdinand exclaimed, still stooping and walking away as quick as he could. Rain hit him and he shivered under the cold water. He got way too used to the warmth of the room.

Anna felt the luck running out of her like air out of a balloon, quickly and speeding up. The cook didn't seem inclined to leave the room - quite the opposite, she was starting to do more and more things, with every step moving her closer to Anna's table. In a moment, she'd find her, and what then? I'll have to silence her before she starts screaming or something, Anna thought and looked at the stick. Not that I want to, she haven't done anything to me… Through the steady noise of falling rain and occasional clap of thunder, she heard the woman whistling some melody to herself. Anna looked at the stick again. I can't punch her too strong…  
>Finally the inevitable happened. The woman leaned for something and found herself face to face with Anna. The cook froze, her mouth open. Anna raised her stick slowly with one hand and put the finger of the other on her lips. The woman nodded and Anna stood up slowly. She pointed at herself and the window. Then at the woman, and again finger to the lips. The woman understood and Anna started to back off to the window, motioning the cook to walk with her and watching for the woman trying to do something unexpected. She imagined thousand different things that could be used in the kitchen.<br>When she was touching the window frame with her back, feeling the cold wind and rain on her cloak, it sprung to her mind that the moment she left, the woman would run to the innkeeper. Even if Ferdinand somehow dealt with the two guardsmen upstairs, there was still one left by the counter, and it'd take a moment for him to call for support. Anna winced and that was the only warning the cook got before the stick hit the side of her skull. The woman slumped to the ground and Anna caught her before she could hit an edge of the table with her forehead, then gently put her in the corner of the room. She checked the pulse and breathing - thankfully, it seemed she hadn't done anything permanent. She then grabbed the stick she left on the floor, put it in its place on the belt and pulled the hood on, then climbed over through the window. She looked around, saw nothing and imagined herself on the plan of the city she was making in her head. So the meeting point was… alright, let's go.

In the end, it took a while for shivering, stooping Ferdinand to find a path out of the city. Through the curtains of rain, and unused to hiding his face, he nearly fell into the port water twice, and once walked for some time before realizing with terror that he's going not towards the mountain, but to the keep. At least this last event helped him to orientate himself and now he knew to walk in the opposite direction. Apart from some patrols of the city guard, and a few unlucky soldiers, sailors and messengers, the streets were nearly empty, everybody hidden either aboard the ships or in the houses. Passing the port, Ferdinand noticed that one of the pendulum ships was under heavy guard. On one hand, he pitied poor people who had duty in this weather. On the other, he wondered what did the crew of the pendulum do to warrant such a heavy guard, and resolved to remember this ship. It might become useful in the future.  
>Finally, he found a way that was climbing up. Indeed, as Anna said, there was just no way to miss a giant tree that stood by it. Ferdinand hurried up and quickly took cover under thick branches full of leaves. He sighed with relief. It wasn't completely waterproof, but at least now the world wasn't trying to drown him.<br>After a moment, he looked around in alarm. Anna should be here some time ago already. Did the guards catch her when she was leaving? For a moment he froze, imagining her telling Hans where they were supposed to meet, but he threw this thought away when he remembered Anna's expression at the slightest mention of his brother. No, that wasn't happening. But still, if she had been caught… No, if she had been, the guards would've expected to find him in the room and they'd be more careful. So _where was she_?  
>He leaned back on the tree's trunk, hearing the steady noise of the rain, and rose his head. His eyebrows immediately followed suit as he noticed a flash of golden hair among the branches.<br>"Anna?", he asked, half-whispering. A moment later he saw her face clearer. "What are you doing up there?"  
>She grinned to him, laying on three thick branches.<br>"It seems we aren't the only people who decided to meet here. If you arrived ten minutes earlier, you'd bump into kissing couple that apparently hadn't seen each other for months."  
>"Oh." Ferdinand felt himself blushing and furiously fought it off. "So, we're both here. I knocked out both guardsmen."<br>"Won't they raise alarm?"  
>"I locked the room. I hope they won't wake up for some time." Maybe I should've gagged them, he thought.<br>"Okay."  
>"So, what do we do, now that we left the city? We can't really hide in any village, we'd stick out like a sore thumb."<br>"I've heard there are sheep here, so there are probably shepherd's huts somewhere on the slopes."  
>She started to climb down.<br>"Are you sure?"  
>"Look, I grew up in a country whose second biggest export product is sheep wool. Let's assume that I know something about sheep farming, okay?"<br>He nodded and resigned himself to following her.

Darkness was already falling - not much of a difference, really, as the rain kept on falling as well - when Anna noticed a fence that she claimed was the borders of grazing area. Ferdinand doubted that the poles-and-line construction could stop a chicken, much less a sheep, but he followed Anna anyway as she started to climb uphill on the grass. Ferdinand kept on sliding down on the wet ground - he figured the princess, living up north, had more experience than him, because she seemed to walk with annoying ease. Finally she stopped and turned back to him, grinning.  
>"There's a hut up there, maybe thirty meters from here.", she said and started to add something, but a flash and thunder of a lightning interrupted her. They both jumped and Ferdinand looked around, patting his deafened ear. He looked up at Anna again.<br>"Is it still standing?"  
>"Yes… and there are no lights in."<br>"Then let's hurry up before we'll be struck."  
>They entered - the hut wasn't locked - and Ferdinand looked around, trying to get his eyes used to darkness. There was a small fireplace in the centre of the single room, a small shelf nailed askew to the wall and a single sleeping place that smelled of hay and was probably made of it. He looked at Anna.<br>"Take the hay bed.", he told her.  
>"I think you could use it…"<br>"Take. The bed…", he repeated slowly. She didn't have to remind him of the damn hand all the time, it kept on itching him as it was.  
>They left their soaked coats on the floor under the shelf and went to sleep on the opposite sides of the fireplace. It was hellishly uncomfortable, but Ferdinand slept on worse. The steady noise of rain outside helped him fall asleep.<p>

A knock on the door, and not a questioning one. It was more like banging, really. Ferdinand was about to tell Schneider to let him sleep, when he realized that the ground wasn't tilting. He wasn't on the ship, Schneider was most likely dead… He opened his eyes wide when he realized what the banging meant.  
>With a crash, the door fell into the hut. Ferdinand tried to get himself up, but forgot about the right hand and hit the floor again.<br>"Anna, Anna, Anna, _Anna_!"  
>She barely opened her eyes when four guardsmen jumped in. The leader pointed at Ferdinand.<br>"Take him out, he's dangerous!"  
>Oh, am I?, he thought bitterly and then they ganged up on him. He tried to fight back, but then…<br>_ THUMP_, a flash and everything disappeared.

Anna's leg hurt as she was led into the keep and to a small room. The guards motioned her in, she was given a small pile of cloth and the door were closed. Anna eyed the two men who stayed inside with her.  
>"And what are you two going to do here?", she asked harshly. She wasn't sure if they understood, but her tone of voice must've done the trick, for they blushed and exited quickly. Anna looked at the cloth she was given. A simple dress, but it was dry, which couldn't be said about what she was currently wearing. The rain was still there when she had been walked to and through the city.<br>Well, it's not that bad, she consoled herself, undressing quickly and finally stretching and bending her leg. It hurt as hell. Still, she could end up like Ferdinand, who had been knocked unconscious and then carried all the way over one of the guardsmen's shoulder, without even a still-wet coat. He's going to get ill from that for sure, Anna thought, putting on the new dress. It was her size, but barely. She finished all the dressing up, straightened her leg again, fixed everything and knocked on the door. The guard looked in, nodded and motioned her out.  
>She followed him, another guard behind her. They didn't have clubs, but swords. Am I that dangerous?, she thought with a sour smile. Her leg was killing her again, so she slowed down. The guardsmen slowed as well, and the one who was leading her said:<br>"Maybe you should see the doctor, miss.", he said in heavily accented Islander.  
>"Thank you, but I don't need to.", she answered. The man looked at her leg, but said nothing and turned back. All right. If they think I'm haughty, they won't want to spend time near me. All the better for me.<br>Thankfully, they didn't climb any stairs before reaching huge, polished wooden door that just screamed "important person inside!". The guardsman knocked on the door.  
>"Yes?", Anna heard the voice and braced herself, clenching her teeth.<br>"One of the prisoners, your grace."  
>"Let him in."<br>Anna closed her eyes for a moment, then followed the guardsman inside.  
>Hans was sitting by the desk full of papers. When she entered, he rose his head and started to say something… Then Anna couldn't help but grin grimly, seeing his eyes filling with incomprehension, then surprise, then shock. His jaw, she noticed with certain satisfaction, nearly dropped as he stood up and leaned forward, collecting himself with difficulty.<br>"You.", he said slowly. "Of all the women in the world, it just had to be you."

""""

_The ship Ferdinand noticed when walking around the city? It's the same pendulum that tried to escape along with the courier when Hans took over Westerguard. And Ferdinand's right, don't forget about this ship. Just sayin'. _


	26. Chapter 26: Princes of the Isles

_Westerguard  
><em> Anna and Hans glared at each other with barely restrained fury.  
>"Out of all the islands I could crash on.", Anna answered. "It just had to be yours."<br>Hans drummed his fingers on the desk and leaned closer.  
>"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?!"<br>Anna didn't lean back. From him? No. Way.  
>"I told you.", she said, feigning serenity. "You crashed my ship."<br>"It wasn't me!"  
>"Oh, really. Aren't you supposed to be the prince here? 'Cause if you're that bad at ruling people…"<br>He hit the desk.  
>"Shut up!", he told her. "That's not what I asked about! Why were you so close to Westerguard?! Did you forget where Arendelle is?!"<br>"No, I got kidnapped!", she snapped back.  
>He stopped and blinked in surprise, leaning back. Anna narrowed her eyes.<br>"It wasn't you?"  
>"No… Why the hell would I want to have anything to do with you anymore?"<br>He sat back in his chair and looked at her, considering. Through the hum of the rain outside, his rapping on the desk was barely audible.  
>"And what do you think you're doing?", Anna asked after moment of silence. "You just took over one of your kingdom's own islands like it's no big deal?"<br>"Yes.", he answered grinned. "You think it _was _any big deal? Please."  
>He stood up and stepped away from the desk, approaching the window on the other side of the room. He looked out, then back at her, then rose his hand. There we go, he's going to gloat again, Anna thought, resigned.<br>"Do you think my _dear _brothers care about Westerguard in the slightest? Oh, sure - about Westerguard's money! That counts for Friedrich, and he'd suck all the money he can get by Westerguard."  
>He grinned and started to pace the room. Anna envied him - her stretched leg hurt.<br>"But to actually ask _Weste_ what they think about it? Ha! _Never_. He only sent his tax collectors, his navy, his officials, all to make sure Weste stay little good citizens of the Isles."  
>"And you're supposedly better?"<br>"Of course I am!" Hans approached and leaned to her. His face was way too close to hers for Anna's liking. "Of course, I can see how our previous experiences can… affect your opinion about me, but tell me, do you think I'd be a _bad _king?"  
>"Power-hungry, that's for sure."<br>"That doesn't constitute _bad_."  
>"I think it actually does, you know."<br>To his visible surprise, she put a hand on his face and pushed him until distance between them was comfortable. While he was silenced by this, she continued:  
>"Perhaps folks here love you - well, I've seen they do, so no 'perhaps'. Congratulations then, you've become a ruler of small, rainy mountain in the middle of the sea."<br>He started to retort, but she didn't let him speak.  
>"Only did you consider that your brother will not like losing one of his major income sources? And that it's him - you know, <em>not you <em>- who's got great navy at his disposal? Okay, cool, you've got your cannons and a few ships, but they have a finite amount of ammunition, and king Friedrich has enough ships to create a real ring around Westerguard. Your secession ends the moment the ships arrive. So I'd say you didn't really think this through."  
>Hans was silent for a moment. Then, to Anna's surprise, he chuckled.<br>"Don't you worry about me… I'll do just fine with what I have."  
>Anna blinked. He didn't care that he had defied one of the biggest nation on the continent? How could he be so sure?Was there some sneaky plan he worked out? Secret weapon? Blackmail material? Escape route? She had to find out, maybe she could use it to escape Hans and sabotage his plans.<br>"Oh, I see.", she said mockingly. "You've got everything planned in advance."  
>To her dismay and surprise, he started laughing.<br>"_Planned_? Dear Anna, I thought you'd know me better! There's no _plan_. I make it all up as I go along!"  
>He grabbed the edge of the desk and sat down, still chuckling. Anna clenched her teeth, feeling that she's about to punch him in the face. Before that happened, though, he managed to calm himself down. He still grinned.<br>"There is no great overall plan, Anna. And that's the best thing possible, you know? Because…" He rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Because I can catch anything that falls into my hands and use it… towards the overall goal."  
>"Really." Anna worked hard to appear unbothered, even though she had vivid visions of strangling Hans. "So what's the overall goal? Making you the ruler of the Isles, or do you measure higher? I've heard Tampere Empire looks for a better ruler. Would that satisfy you or is it still not enough for you?"<br>Hans looked at her with smile and narrow eyes.  
>"You really think I'd tell you that?"<br>"Well, given that you've already started gloating…"  
>Hans snorted.<br>"Forget about it." He stood up and slowly walked behind Anna. She quickly turned back and sat on the desk before Hans could disappear from her view. Her leg ached again.  
>"Stop playing stupid games, would you?", she told him.<br>He chuckled again, with a wide grin. Then he shook his head.  
>"Anna, don't worry. Believe me, you would find my plans <em>extremely <em>boring. The only thing that should interest you is… _your _fate." He leaned and tried to poke her in the chest, but she swatted his finger before he could do it.  
>"And what would my fate be?", she asked coldly.<br>"Why, you're going to ensure that dear Friedrich won't try anything tricky. Along with Ferdinand, of course."  
>Great, so I'm his hostage. Last thing I'd like to do.<br>"If you keep on treating Ferdinand like you do now, I doubt he'll make it to navy's arrival.", she noted.  
>"Oh, you worry about him? How sweet…" He sat in the chair she occupied just a moment ago. "But don't worry, I don't need him as much as I do you."<br>He chuckled again.  
>"Don't you think Elsa would be <em>extremely <em>annoyed with Friedrich if he let you die?"  
>Anna clenched her teeth.<br>"Yeah…" she said after a moment. "She might be."  
>"Exactly."<br>He kept on smiling. There was something about what he said that made Anna think… This time it was her who leaned closer, despite the aching leg.  
>"Tell me something. Honestly. Did you have <em>anything <em>to do with my kidnapping?"  
>Hans shook his head.<br>"No. If it was up to me, I'd never see you again in my entire life. But since you're already here, I can just as well use you."  
>The way he said it, as if she was an object, made her want to scream at him and punch him until he died. She didn't move, though - with guards outside, that would be suicidal. As if he hadn't seen emotions on her face, Hans stood up and approached the door.<br>"And don't care much about Ferdinand. I planned to pretend I have him alive as a hostage anyway, so having him - or his corpse - is just an unexpected bonus. It's not like I care about what happens to him."  
>And yet you wasted air on assuring me about it, Anna thought. If you really don't need him anymore, why haven't you killed him yet? Don't you think he might be problematic alive?<br>Hans opened the door and told something to the guards. They entered and he turned back to Anna.  
>"I hope you'll excuse me for your cell. I thought about putting you in one of the guest rooms, only they offer way too many opportunities to escape, and I wouldn't want you to waste this tricky brain of yours on things like that."<br>He motioned her to exit. She clenched her teeth, stood up and passed him without a word. Before he closed the door, she heard him saying:  
>"But don't worry - you won't stay there for long…"<br>The guards led her, again in the same configuration, through the dark corridors and down the stairs. They had to slow down there, because Anna didn't want to bend her leg, making going downstairs much more complicated. To make matters worse, there was a lot of stairs. Anna estimated she went down at least three floors. Her suspicions were partially confirmed when she saw a row of cells on the floor she was led to. She was certainly underground. The guard in front of her turned back looked at her apologetically.  
>"Miss, are you sure you don't want to see the doctor?"<br>"No, thanks." Anna answered, feeling her leg ache. "I'm doing just fine."  
>Guard didn't seem convinced, but he didn't say anything, instead leading her further forward.<br>Her cell was apparently better-class one. It had two brick walls to the sides and one made of bars that served as the door, letting the guards look in without any effort. Inside, there was a chair, a bed with hay-filled mattress, tiny table attached to the wall like the bed was and small window without glass over the bed. Sure, it was so high Anna would have to stand on her fingers to reach it, and there were bars in it, but at least there was fresh air. However, the only thing that could be called toilet was a bucket in the corner.  
>Anna sat on her bed and looked at the guards.<br>"I… I'll have something to eat sent to you.", the one who was speaking said.  
>Anna smiled and nodded.<br>"Thank you." No need to be a jerk to the man who actually cared about her comfort.  
>The two guards left. Anna waited a moment to make sure nobody's there, and then grabbed the edge of her dress. She pulled it up, revealing her leg… and the stick Ferdinand had given her in the inn. She had managed to hide it while guardsmen had been busy kicking the prince into unconsciousness.<br>She pulled the stick out and sighed with relief, finally bending the aching leg and sitting in more comfortable position. She weighted the stick in her hands. I hope you'll be useful, she thought, after what I got through to get you in here.  
>She hid it in the shadow under the bed, hoping she'd manage to scare off any cleaner, and sat again, contemplating her conversation with Hans. He was hiding something, she was sure about that. Not only about his goals, but about something else as well. Only what could it be? In her head, Anna ran through the entire conversation again. Two statements struck her as meaningful.<br>_Don't you think Elsa would be extremely annoyed with Friedrich if he let you die?  
>But don't worry - you won't stay there for long…<br>_ She gasped when she realized what he wanted to do. He _did _have a plan.  
>He would kill Anna, make it look as if king Friedrich did it, and then watch Arendelle and Southern Isles go to war.<p>

Ferdinand returned to consciousness and immediately wished he hadn't done so. It seemed everything hurt him. His head, his legs, his stomach, his chest, his hand… the damn hand hurt and itched all the time. He tried to reach and scratch it, but his fingers met air. He cursed silently and opened his eyes.  
>It was dark. He wasn't sure why - were there no windows? Was it night already? He slowly sat and blinked until he managed to see something. He was in a cell, under a wall, on something that felt like hay and probably was hay. Three walls were brick, or perhaps stone. Opposite him, though, there were bars, and faint light from somewhere to the left from behind them. Ferdinand tried to stand up and cursed again, falling to his feet on shaking legs. He looked at himself, noticing wet clothes, then examined his body carefully. Lot of bruises and swellings, but, thankfully, nothing seemed broken. He tried to get to his feet again, feeling his stomach twist with hunger. This time, he managed to stay on them, but fell again before reaching the bars, as if some force pulled him. He looked back and noticed that his feet are shackled, and he's chained to the wall.<br>He quickly examined the room, but there wasn't much. Except for the layer of hay that was supposed to serve as bed and the bucket that was probably his toilet, the cell was virtually empty. His feet - somebody took his shoes - felt ice cold on the floor. He tried to stand on the hay to escape freezing rock, but stupid dry grass hurt his feet, so he finally sat and started to rub them. Soon he was all freezing. It was so cold… He coughed, then coughed again, with enough strength to make spots of light appear before his eyes. He sighed, resting his head on his knee, and coughed again.  
>Some time later - he didn't know. Minutes? Hours? - he lied back on the uncomfortable bed of hay and looked at the ceiling, mirror image of the floor and walls. Someone must come soon, right? Someone will come…<br>Time passed and it seemed as if nobody was going to come. Ferdinand turned on the side, then again and again, holding his stomach with one hand. Somebody will come, he told himself. Somebody will…  
>He heard sounds of boots on the stone floor and sat up, listening. Someone came closer… Then stopped. Then the light started moving. Away…<br>"No, no…" Ferdinand started to say, then cleared his throat and screamed:  
>"Hey! Anybody there! Please, is anybody there?! Somebody!"<br>He started to cough again and couldn't stop for a while. When he finally finished, he realized that the steps and the light were closer. He started to smile…  
>"So… I see you're here."<br>He blinked, seeing the man in the entrance.  
>"Klaus. B… Been a while."<br>Klaus Hauser look as Ferdinand remembered him. Handsome man is his forties, with greyed hair and deep green eyes. A few years added him some age, that was visible, especially in the light of the torch he was holding. He looked at Ferdinand with… Prince shivered, recognizing hatred.  
>"Yeah. A while. I've noticed you've got yourself a frigate. Well, it was nice while it lasted."<br>Ferdinand felt as if he was punched in his stomach. He clenched his hand into a fist.  
>"It was you who ordered her sunk, wasn't it?!"<br>Klaus shrugged, smiling maliciously.  
>"Well, it was a danger to Westerguard, so yes, I ordered it sunk."<br>"You… bastard!" Ferdinand got to his feet and came as close as he could. "You goddamn bastard! It wasn't about danger to Westerguard, it was just so that you could get your petty little revenge!"  
>"<em>Petty<em>?! You call it 'petty'?!" Illusion of calmness disappeared. Klaus grabbed the bar as if he wanted to break it. "You should be here with me! Disgraced, hated, all but kicked out! But no, you were protected, because you're the king's favorite brother!"  
>He panted, took the hand away and continued:<br>"Do you know what it's like?! To see all your friends turn their backs on you, to see the dream of your life crumbling in front of your eyes, to be sent to the goddamn end of the world to be left and forgotten?! You know what it's like?! No, you've got no damn idea!"  
>He hit the bars with his fist with enough strength to make them resonate. Ferdinand moved back a step, seeing hatred filling Klaus' eyes.<br>"And what was I supposed to do?! What would it help if I went down with you?!"  
>"At least there would be <em>justice<em>! But no! You're high noble sir, law doesn't apply to you!" He banged the bars again and stood for a moment, panting heavily.  
>He finally leaned closer.<br>"I _hate _you", he whispered. "I _hate you _and I enjoyed every single moment of watching your ship sink. I think I even saw your men trying to save themselves. They all lost to the storm. Wonderful sight."  
>Ferdinand clenched his teeth, but Klaus was too far away. The admiral smiled mockingly.<br>"Oh, does that hurt your feelings? You know now what it feels like? To lose all you've cared about? You know what it feels like to look on the person who caused it?"  
>"So why don't you just kill me?" Ferdinand asked. "What, you don't have the balls to make the final move? I bet you feel great observing others slaughtering people at your command, but you're just too much of a <em>coward <em>to kill me…"  
>Klaus' eyes narrowed.<br>"If I could, I'd kill you right this moment, or even earlier, the moment you were found, you know? So when Hans comes to chat, I suggest you be nice to him, 'cause I won't be."  
>Ferdinand blinked. Hans wanted him to stay alive? What?<br>"Surprised? Well, I guess you expected something different. Seems like betrayal runs in the family…"  
>Klaus started to leave. He had disappeared behind the wall before Ferdinand realized that he can't let him leave.<br>"Klaus! Wait! Wait, please! Please, I'm so sorry about all that, please, come back!"  
>The admiral returned after a moment and looked at Ferdinand suspiciously.<br>"What?"  
>"Please, I'm… I'm sorry. About what happened, about people turning against you, and about you getting sent here…"<br>"Save the air." Klaus interrupted him. "It's not like I care whether you're sorry or not anymore. What the hell do you want?"  
>Ferdinand sighed and closed his eyes.<br>"Can you… can I please have something to eat? And see a doctor. I think I need to."  
>He opened his eyes again and looked at Klaus.<br>"Somebody'll bring you food soon.", the admiral said coldly. "But Hans didn't say anything about you seeing a doctor and I won't do anything more for you than he ordered."  
>He started to leave again.<br>"Wait. Wait! Can you at least tell me what time of the day is it?"  
>Klaus shrugged and left, deaf to Ferdinand's screams and pleads.<br>The prince sat on the floor of the cell and then lied down on it, right on the cold rock. No point talking to Klaus… although he doesn't want to know me anymore, so no point talking to _Hauser_. He swallowed and rubbed his right arm. Most of the aches left him, but the hand, if anything, seemed to hurt even more than when he woke up. Finally, Ferdinand sat back up and leaned on the wall. He started to unwrap bandages Anna put on his arm… He gasped and covered his mouth when he felt the stench.  
>I hope someone will come quickly, he thought, because I really need a doctor.<p>

_Koenigsberg  
><em> Eduard Braun leaned on the wall and looked at the helmet he held in his hands, wondering. So far, he managed to find out, more or less, which of his subordinates worked for Michael from the beginning, and who stayed loyal to the current king. The size of the latter group actually made the captain slightly more optimistic.  
>Slightly.<br>On the other hand, situation in the court was bound to become unhinged again, what with Michael having left yesterday. In his place, other members of von Schwalbe family started to arrive, and it seemed as if every single one of them wanted to be declared the next king, skipping over his predecessors. So far, four of them has come, and semaphores said another two were inbound in the next few days. Braun sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand. He had enough problems as it was, but younger von Schwalbes were like vultures, attracted by the scent of incoming death.  
>Kingsguard shook his head and returned to walking down the corridor. With four princes already present, getting something done was a mess, with kingsguards busying themselves with making sure the nobility is safe, apparently against the wishes of said nobility who tried to get rid of them with any excuse. What's worse, with Michael not present, the matters that needed resolving were piling up. The only bright side to this entire situation was that His Majesty finally started to get out of his shell and seemed to be getting himself together, however slowly. Princess Annie was also starting to get better - thanks, in huge part, to efforts of her cousins, children of prince Nicholas - although father and daughter still didn't talk to each other.<br>However, that was hardly Braun's concern at the moment. He was tasked with finding hard evidence against Michael, and he felt that failure was imminent. He pretty much ran out of leads - if there were ever any. What he was doing right now was a gesture of desperation. He didn't expect it to work out.  
>He approached the right door in the dark, damp dungeons under Koenigsberg palace and nodded to the man who stood guard in front of them. However he disliked the connotations of his decision, he waited until a <em>loyal<em> kingsguard stood by the door before approaching castle prison. It paid back. The man just saluted and opened captain the door, without questions. Braun entered.

Patrick Schneider, who had been - once, in a past that seemed oddly happy now - a kingsguard, opened his eyes when he heard the sound of the door opening. It wasn't time for neither the doctor, nor the woman who brought food and cleaned. He turned his head and was surprised to see familiar figure of captain Braun. Patrick tried to sit and salute.  
>"Sir…", he managed to say. He saw flicker of surprise in captain's eyes and held back a smile. Even weeks after beating he took from another two imprisoned guards, he was still covered in bandages, took medicine and had troubles breathing and speaking. The climate in the prison hadn't help. But Schneider wanted to stay kingsguard, even if he recognized hopeless case when he saw one.<br>"No need to sit, sergeant.", captain answered, coming closer and sitting at the edge of the bed. "I see you're not in your best shape."  
>"Yes, sir…" Patrick took a deep breath, lying back down.<br>"Still, I see you're doing better."  
>"Thank you", he took a breath, "sir."<br>Captain nodded.  
>"I need to talk to you, Patrick. About the day before prince Hans escaped."<br>Schneider swallowed. So there it was. The conversation he hadn't wanted to make, the secret over which he had been beaten to near death…  
>…and having nearly met death, he decided it just plain wasn't worth it. Especially as prince Michael left, if gossip the guards at the door shared with him were true. And why would Patrick care? He was… he sometimes wondered why he had become so oddly at ease with idea of his own death.<br>"Well… sir…" He swallowed and took a breath. "So… this day, prince Michael came to visit prince Hans…"  
>Braun blinked and Patrick notices with surprise a new light in captain's eyes, as if the man suddenly discovered a new cause worth living for.<br>"Michael talked with Hans?", he asked, smiling and leaning closer. "Despite king's ban?"  
>"Yes, sir."<br>Braun smiled even wider.  
>"Tell me what they were talking about."<p> 


	27. Chapter 27: Proper preparations

_Point Tampani  
><em> Vincent Meyers slowly made his way over yet another giant rock and sighed when he saw that he's not even close to the end of the wreckage. The merchies had certainly chosen the point of their trap well. The collapse of the walls had taken the only good path in range of a few miles with it, leaving the scouts with options of either going two hours back before going forward, or trying to pass the heaps of rock and sneak out of the view of merchie scouts, who had good eyes. Understandably, most Weseltonians favored the former approach.  
>And <em>of course <em>I had to be the one standing close when captain concocted this stupid plan, didn't I?, Vincent asked himself, trying to find a way around yet another rock. So far, his first assessment of situation proved correct - there was no way to lead infantry through the wreckage without sentencing it to death. He was now looking for other options, and he even had an idea. Well, Vincent was sure many people had already came up with this idea, but he was also sure that general Windsor would rip his head off his shoulders for suggesting it out loud. The army was low on supplies, after all, and it seemed nothing was coming through.  
>Well, if the general plans to do nothing but sit on his stacks of powder and save it for later, we won't accomplish much, Meyers thought with annoyance, grabbing the edge of the rock and pulling himself up. He was thankful for thick gloves he was wearing - the gunpowder's cut left rocks with sharp edges and…<br>_click!_ He froze, his hands shaking from effort of keeping him up, and then slowly lowered himself back on the unsure ground. He'd swear the quiet sound he'd just heard was a crossbow string being locked in place. He held his breath and turned, pressing his back to the rock he planned to climb on. He tilted his head and listened carefully, trying to hear something more.  
>Silence, silence. Was he so close to merchie camp already that he heard their watchmen's weapons? Or had merchies sent a patrol into the wreckage, trying to sniff out any Weselton scouts? Whatever it was, going further didn't bid well for the future of corporal Vincent Meyers. He kept on listening.<br>Soon enough, he heard silent taps on the rock, as if muffled steps. So a patrol. He cursed in his head, thankful that he thought of wrapping his boots in cloth to silence them. So they might've seen his gloves, or a flash of them, but on bright gray rock, in the midmorning sun, they'd probably rather check. And that's just what they're doing, Meyers thought, clenching his teeth. Great! Just great.  
>He slowly slid down until he was nearly sitting and looked around. Two rocks to his left supported each other, leaving a nice hiding spot between them. Carefully making his way on the uneven, ragged stones, Meyers came to them, then took the crossbow off his back and slid into the free space. To his surprise, it was rather deep, and when standing straight, his breast was level with the rocks he had walked on. Good firing spot, he thought, looking.<br>Three men appeared on the rock he had planned to climb, all in white uniforms with merchie hoods. They were disappointingly professional. One got down on the rock, while others were looking around and scanning the area with their crossbows raised. When the man down had sure footing, he started to do the same, and then another man started going down. Slowly, Meyers slid down when the two of them were looking in another direction, until they disappeared from his view. He then waited anxiously, hoping that they hadn't noticed him.  
>Apparently, he was lucky, because he heard nothing. Even though Meyers was used to moving around in total silence, it was eerie how the three men remained silent. Vincent cursed in his head with frustration. How long was he supposed to stay here? How should he know where the three would leave? Dammit, why can't they, like, talk to each other or something? Why do they have to be so hopelessly professional?<br>Finally he heard the taps of wrapped boots as the three men came closer. Vincent grabbed the pommel of his knife tightly, trying not to think about his rather low chances of survival if the three merchies decided to turn him into needle pillow again. They didn't come close, however - it seemed they were… Yes. He smiled sourly. They were taking the same path he walked, only in opposite direction.  
>Meyers waited until the sounds disappeared behind the rock before slowly standing up and looking around. Nobody. Good. He quietly exited his hiding and looked in the direction the three merchies went. Now, what are your plans, gentlemen?, he asked, following them.<p>

"This better worked", Nexø whispered to himself, looking absently at the cards in his hand.  
>"You have some tricky plan to win with us, Soren?", Riis asked from across the table. Major Lund, fanning himself with cards as if they were lady's fan, only grinned. Nexø blinked himself back to reality of the open tent, the table and opened, half-empty bottle of cheap win.<br>"Ah, perhaps.", he said, looking through his card more consciously. The situation was rather depressing. "I was talking about this scheme you talked our scouts into."  
>"You mean <em>we <em>talked.", Riis noticed, pointing at him. He took a sandwich off the table and bit at it. "Donh hay hoo shyfd e' ley…" He swallowed. "Don't try to shift the blame on me."  
>"I'm not shifting any blame on anybody!" Nexø stated harshly. Riis was taken aback a bit and Lund rose his eyebrows.<br>"Hey, hey, Soren, chill!", he said. "We're playing to be less stressed, not more, remember?"  
>Nexø closed his eyes and nodded.<br>"Yes. Sorry. Really, I envy you the skill."  
>Lund patted him on the back and Soren clenched his teeth. It seemed as if ever since his return from Tampani trail, everybody tried to tread lightly around him. Perhaps for a reason, but still. It was annoying.<br>"What I meant when I said 'you' was that you did most of the talking.", he said slowly. "I only made a suggestion."  
>"Alright." Riis shrugged and looked back into his cards. "Anyway, I believe it will work. Windsor's head must've been hit by one of those powder charges of yours. If I were him, I'd already start blowing up all those rocks to make way."<br>"Sure, sure…" Nexø grabbed the bottle and took a sip. It was a tiny bottle, and they wouldn't get another for the next four days, so the sip was tiny as well. "Still, I… I just can't stop thinking that he's not doing this because he's got something trickier in mind."  
>"You think Dahl didn't have us think of all possible ways Windsor can get tricky? Man!", Lund patted him on the shoulder again. "By yesterday evening I felt like my brain was going to die from exhaustion!"<br>He took the bottle. In opposite to Nexø, he obviously didn't care much about saving the precious drink, and took a huge gulp before putting the bottle back on the table. Riis looked at what little was left with melancholy in his eyes and major continued speaking:  
>"Listen, Soren, you can see yourself what the terrain we're fighting in is like. There's just no way for Windsor to be tricky, alright? The only way he could surprise us would be if headless army in the Streams managed to break through, which I call unlikely! And you?"<br>"Probably unlikely…", Nexø agreed. Lund patted him on the arm again and thrown his cards on the table. Two captains leaned closer and Riis sighed. Major grinned.  
>"My cash, gentlemen, if you please?"<p>

"_Home" valley  
><em> General Jens Olafsen looked at the report in his hands with curiosity and glanced at general Kristiani. Rasmus was fiddling with his wedding ring, grinning cheerfully.  
>"So it seems Bjorn's still in action, huh?", Jens said, folding the report and looking at the map spread on the table. "Well, I guess it would be hard to expect old bear to slow down…"<br>"Is this complaints I hear?", Rasmus said, throwing the ring and catching it with his hands. Olafsen chuckled.  
>"No, of course not. More power to him! I'm just thinking about what should we do now, seeing how he managed to deprive the army up there of supplies."<br>"You think he could strike them?"  
>"Not sure, really. He must be running low on food himself, and anyway, we'd still have to find him somehow to tell him that, and I don't think we have enough scouts to spare to go looking all over the High Table."<br>"True."  
>The ring slipped onto his finger and Rasmus stood up and leaned over the map.<br>"So I say we attack them in a few days, when they'll start to feel the hunger gnawing on their bones."  
>Jens nodded, but patted with his finger on Point Tampani.<br>"I'd go with it, but this here still worries me."  
>"Tampani? Well, your colonel Dahl seems to have them pinned down well enough."<br>"Perhaps, but I wouldn't underestimate trapped enemy."  
>"You call Windsor trapped?"<br>"With Bjorn ravaging his rear? Yes, I'd say so. Windsor can now either try to break through the wreckage and take our supplies, or return to High Table on a wild goose chase for Berg and his men. He's sneaky, but not a coward, so I suspect he'd try the former."  
>Kristiani nodded.<br>"Perhaps… but we can't let an opportunity like this pass. Bjorn won't hold Weasels off to infinity, and soon the supplies will start flowing again. If Windsor tries to attack and somehow succeeds in taking Dahl out of action, we'll be stuck between two armies, one of which will be free to run rampant on our countryside all it likes. Even if Simani manages to bring First Corps to face them - which, mind, is still not sure - they'll still fight too close to the capital for my liking, and they'll have more than one opportunity to burn our fields…"  
>Which still aren't all that well after the Great Freeze, Olafsen finished in his head. Still, he nodded, because Kristiani had a point.<br>"Alright. Let's take our time to prepare and let the Weasels up there starve a bit. Then we strike… We take the High Table…"  
>"…and then we hit Windsor from the back.", Rasmus finished, leading his finger on the map in the path they'd take. Jens nodded.<br>"Well, and let's hope it'll all go as planned.", he added, hoping to Almighty that it'll go at least half as well as planned.

_Rollinson Gate, west of High Table  
><em> The militia officer who brought lieutenant Gardner a cup of hot chocolate also brought the news that some "military high-up - ya' know, sir, them officer" had arrived. Leaning on the wall of militia outpost and looking at sixteen-years-old militiaman, George decided to take "high-up" part with grain of salt, as he rather doubted general Carter or anyone on his staff would grace Gardner with his presence.  
>Nevertheless, he saluted, seeing the captain badges on newcomer's shoulder. He swallowed, reminded of his own captain, now surely dead. The officer apparently hadn't noticed that, because he smiled, staying on the horse.<br>"At ease, lieutenant. I've heard you've had quite an ordeal."  
>Yes, George figured it was an ordeal. When he had finally reached the Gate - exhausted, starving and thirsty beyond belief, with Traveler nearly collapsing underneath him - stupid militia captain who ran the post had wanted to postpone sending the message, because 'it's dark already, and the postman arrives tomorrow anyway'. Gardner had discovered he hadn't been as tired as he had thought, and the captain had found out about it moments later, when furious shouts and screams of the soldier had nearly deafened him.<br>"Well, sir, you could say so.", Gardner answered now, smiling a bit as well. "I'm all fine now, though." The captain nodded.  
>"That's good. Mount up, lieutenant, and let's go."<p>

About two hours later they arrived in a small town called Mockinbyrd. George vaguely remembered passing it on the way to High Table, and he also remembered that Mockinbyrd held a cavalry garrison…  
>Which was apparently preparing itself to leave, George noted with some shock. The entire place seemed to have at least twice as many people than before, and was bustling with activity. The captain who had led him here grinned, seeing lieutenant's expression.<br>"We've suspected something's afoot when we stopped getting messages from generals Windsor and Potter.", he explained. "Your revelations hurried us up. We'll probably be leaving in the evening."  
>"Oh… whoa."<br>I just hope they won't ask me to accompany them, George though, patting Traveler's neck.

_Tampani trail_  
>What are they trying to do?, Meyers asked either himself or the Almighty, because merchies sure as hell weren't giving him answers. He followed them silently, but they seemed to just stop in random points and observe the camp, even though they were looking in wrong directions all the time. They bypassed the spot in which they could observe the entire place as if it was nothing, and then stopped for a moment in a place from which they could only see part of horse corral and canyon wall. And it wasn't the only time when they made such an odd decision. Vincent slowly started to think that those merchies simply had something wrong with their heads.<br>He was hiding behind a rock, watching them observe and consult something with each other with hand gestures. Unfortunately, they were too far away for Vincent to work out what they were gesturing about, but he didn't dare come closer. At least one of them was always scanning the area around them, looking for trouble…  
>Meyers blinked as they started to walk over the rock they were hiding behind. For all the time he was watching them, they didn't dare go so close to Weselton camp, always observing stupid places…<br>There must be something in this stupid places that I can't see from here, he decided and resolved to follow the trio as closely as possible.  
>When the last of them disappeared from his view, he quickly ran to their place and carefully looked over the rock. Ah, so that's what they were looking for, he thought sourly. Side entrance to our camp… But where's the watchman? There should be…<br>He heard a silent thump and ducked behind the rock. A moment later, muffled footsteps approached, bringing something with them, and muffled footsteps left, without this something. Vincent waited for a while before looking and confirming his guess. The watchman - thankfully, nobody Vincent knew - was lying on the ground with unnaturally twisted neck.  
>Should I alert the camp?, he asked himself, climbing over the rock and sliding down. Not now… I'll scare them and they'll escape, killing me in the process. Better let them come further, so that I won't be the only thing standing between them and merchie camp.<br>He came to the exit of this little hideout and gasped, seeing his army's own camp. He looked around quickly, trying to find the silhouettes of three merchies, which wasn't easy. Everything and everyone seemed to be moving, and even narrowing it down only to white uniforms wasn't helping in a bit… there! Under the wall, in the shadow. He sprang out and started to go between the people in their direction. They were going towards some carts. What were they trying to do? They didn't have backpacks or any sack they could carry powder in, like the last time…  
>"And what are <em>you <em>doing?!", somebody caught him from behind. Vincent turned back to see scout lieutenant he had only met briefly at the meals.  
>"Aren't you supposed to be watching that entrance?!"<br>"Me? No, the other guy just got…"  
>"Back to the…!"<br>"Dammit, listen to me! Three merchies offed the guy! There!"  
>He pointed in their direction. Lieutenant snorted, but looked there… of course, they had to disappear behind the carts.<br>"Yeah, sure! Back on your station!"  
>What the hell?! Did they swap your brain with pig's after you were born?!<br>"Idiot!" Meyers said and slid out of man's grasp, running towards the carts. He heard the man following him with curses and waved to the man next to the carts.  
>"Hey! Hey, what those hold?!", he called. The man rose his head.<br>"Powder, why?"  
>Oh, hell, hell, hell, hell, they don't need anything but matches… He saw merchies quickly walk from behind the cart and away. He pointed at them.<br>"Them! Down!"  
>The man turned and looked at the mechies, then started calling. Three men started to run, crossbows loaded, Meyers had to reach the carts, quickly, before they…<br>_BOOOM!_

_Point Tampani_  
>"Well, that sounded like an explosion.", Riis said, looking towards the heap of rocks and Weasel camp behind it. Nexø nodded slowly.<br>"So… it did work out in the end?", he said carefully.  
>"At least for now, I guess…"<br>Lund appeared behind them.  
>"HA! Worked! Worked! Ha, forget about blowing up the passage!"<br>Nexø sighed, hearing the never-faltering cheerfulness of the man and listening on. After a moment, he said carefully.  
>"There are no more explosions…"<br>"…and then we'll… What?" Lund stopped and started listening as well. Nexø bit his lip. So, it did work, albeit not as well as he hoped it would. Still, he figured it could be worse… It could not work at all…  
>Another three dead, he thought to himself. I shouldn't feel so… neutral about it. Or maybe I should? Damn it. Damn it, damn this war, damn the goddamn army! Just end, end, end already!<p>

A while later, colonel Dahl called Lund and other majors to himself for a brainstorm and two captains left for their own units. In Nexø's place all seemed calm. Lars was waiting with this terrible, watered-down tea, apparently declaring himself the new aide de camp to the captain. Hjorth and few other lieutenants were playing cards, while Rune apparently busied himself with needlework. The rest alternated between sleeping, chatting and listening to Weselton camp. Nexø joined Hjorth and others in the game and soon won back at least half of what he had lost to Lund. Perhaps there's some connection between your military rank and skill at cards, he thought, noting with slight amusement scorning looks others gave him. What would it be like, to pin general Windsor and general Olafsen against each other in cards and judge the war by the result? Ha, of only that was so easy…  
>Lund returned and patted him on the shoulder. Hell, does this man have any sense of personal space?!, Nexø asked himself in annoyance and saluted, raising his head.<br>"Sir."  
>"Soren, Dahl's sending you and your boys out again. It seems we've worked out a way for Weasels to attack us. It's, like… really improbable, but you know what they say…"<br>"Better safe than sorry?"  
>"Yep."<p>

And so it was. As the evening was falling, Soren and his men were climbing for the third time on the walls surrounding Tampani trail. This time, with no backpacks of powder, only food, water, crossbow bolts, crossbow, knife and sword. A few men carried lines as well, in case they were necessary. Once up, people were leaving in groups of twenty. Nexø wished them all good luck, hoping that none of them would die and knowing this was a foolish dream to have.  
>Still, he wished them good luck as they spread around, putting corks in all the paths Weasels might try to use to sneak up on them.<p>

_Tampani trail  
><em> His head still felt like somebody was working with hammers inside, and he felt half deaf. The healer had cleaned his face, commenting on the thick jacket protecting him again - I'm too lucky for my own good, he had thought then - and he felt almost like human being, albeit one after some bad experiences.  
>Still, the captain expected a report, so Vincent Meyers was standing and reporting. Despite general Windsor's presence, he concluded:<br>"…and well, sirs, I believe… or rather believed, before mmmArendellans blew up a huge piece of the powder stock… that the best way would be to clear the path with powder charges."  
>"Fight fire with fire, huh?", the general murmured, apparently to himself, looking down on the map. "Not really possible… no, we go on with the current plan. Thank you for your report, sergeant."<br>Meyers blinked.  
>"Uhm… I'm a corporal, sir."<br>Windsor winced and captain looked at Vincent with a smile.  
>"Sergeant, rest assured that your general knows what he's saying."<br>So that meant that… Oh.  
>"O-of course. Thank you, sir…"<br>He saluted. Captain smiled wider and nodded.  
>"At ease. You've earned your promotion during the last weeks."<p>

They left a moment later, Vincent still half-dazed from both the explosion and unexpected promotion. He finally felt confident enough to ask his captain:  
>"Sir, what's the… current plan?"<br>"Oh, the current plan… Well, it's Windsor-ish and sneaky. Basically, infantry attack in scout style."  
>"Oh… sir, the same thing general Potter tried to do in Stone Streams? Attack from over the canyon? But… I don't think that's possible here."<br>"And what do you think the general and us have been spending last days on? We were working on making this possible."  
>Meyers nodded and winced. With his luck, he'd end up leading one of the groups. He was as sure of it as one could be without direct order.<br>The captain must've seen this, because he laughed.  
>"Don't worry. This time, you're staying with the healers."<br>"Oh, thank you so much, sir…"  
>Still, I bet trouble will find me somehow, Vincent thought, looking up in the sky. Even priests claimed Almighty can have wicked sense of humour, after all.<p>

_Arendelle_  
>And once again, Elsa was alone in the castle, despite presence of other people.<p>

She looked out of the window in her bedroom - her new bedroom. The one she spent most of her life in was closed. Too many memories.  
>Frost started to form on the window where it was closest to her face. Elsa closed her eyes, still delighted by her newfound ability to control her powers. When she looked again, water was sliding down towards the potted plant Old Kai put there. When she asked him why the plant, he joked dryly that with her freezing the window every so often, at least something can benefit from extra water. Elsa figured it made sense, even if she sometimes woke up from her nightmares and had to thaw the flowers.<br>She sighed - she shouldn't let her thoughts wander like this. She felt that the time she had for herself was slowly escaping her with every new trouble. Thankfully, scheming generals seemed to at least know war, if not politics, so that angle was covered until something went wrong big time. But the Royal Council insisted Elsa end the war right now - how? Probably by freezing both armies to death or something equally murderous. Or freezing Weselton and taking it hostage.  
>Elsa didn't want to do that. For the first two months of her rule she saw enough of the suffering the Great Freeze caused. She didn't want to inflict it on anybody anymore, and she hoped Kristoff and young Madsen could solve the diplomatic mess and convince Charles that peace is the best option.<br>She snickered to herself. "Young Madsen". He's at least six years older than you, even if he looks like he's Anna's age, she reminded herself, and the last part of this thought spoiled her mood again.  
>Anna. It seemed to Elsa that she had already searched her entire kingdom looking for her little sister and perhaps Anna could look after herself, but that didn't stop Elsa from worrying about her. She had no message from her sister, no information whatsoever about where she might be, no notes from kidnappers, nothing, nothing and nothing. It was almost as if Anna went to sleep one night and her bed ate her.<br>Elsa thought for a moment about checking the insides of the bed, but dismissed the thought. After all, she already took some steps to find Anna. Before she got the answer, the only thing she could do was to worry.  
>And worry and worry and worry. She didn't wonder anymore that her father the king grayed early.<p>

_Inner Sea  
><em> The storm was rampaging around the deserted part of the sea. Darkness ruled, with thick black clouds, endless rain, howling wind and high waves crashing loudly into each other. A poet might say the sea was boiling. Somebody inside might attest that it was deadly cold. But there was no poet and no swimmer. In fact, there seemed to be no human being to witness dark rage of the sea.  
>That didn't mean, of course, that the ragged, ever-changing, rain-torn waters were devoid of any beings.<p>

Whether Elsa's "steps to find Anna" was actually alive was a subject up to debate. It certainly seemed very lively, running on the waves, water calming and freezing into ice under its four feet. The creature seemed not to feel the rain, or the wind, or anything at all. Understandably, seeing how it was made of ice and accompanied by a small cloud to keep it cold. It didn't have anything one could call eyes, and at the end of its long, greyhound-like muffle there was a huge chunk of ice.  
>It wasn't exactly nose. It was hard to describe what exactly it was sensing. Perhaps, seeing how magic was based on emotions, it was following the bond between Anna and Elsa. Perhaps it was something even stranger, which would baffle scientists of the future to no end.<br>What counted was that the greyhound-like creature of snow was sensing Anna, and through the rain and storm and waves it was running restlessly south, towards the faraway island of Westerguard.


	28. Chapter 28: Taking the initiative

„_Home" valley  
><em> The recent thaw was a godsend, at least in the eyes of general Olafsen. The rains washed the ice out of the Streams, and while the stony canyons were still slippery, it was possible to walk in them without risk of falling and breaking one's neck. Moreover, the weather was right. Rainless, but full of clouds that covered sky and moon, plunging the Streams into near complete darkness.  
>General Olafsen looked in the sky and nodded to himself, then looked at his commanders.<br>"No last-minute thoughts?", he asked them. They all shook their heads.  
>"Great. Then if everybody knows the plan, let's get to it."<br>They saluted and left, although one man stayed, looking at the clouds with troubled expression.  
>"Colonel Olsen?"<br>The officer turned to the general.  
>"Uhm, yes. Sorry, sir. It's just… the weather's been freaky lately. I mean, snows at rains in early autumn? That… isn't normal."<br>"I know. The Great Freeze just messed up the weather, I guess. It should set itself properly in a year or so."  
>"Yeah… I'm just worried it'll start acting up when we'll be up there."<br>"We usually get some warning from weatherwatchers. Anyway, there's not much we can do about it."  
>"Aye, sir. Sorry for taking your time."<br>Colonel left. Olafsen nodded and noticed Kristiani approaching his tent.  
>"All fine on your end?", he asked him.<br>"Yep. All in place and ready to dance."  
>Jens rolled his eyes at Rasmus' attempts at rhyming. Kristiani looked at leaving colonel and asked:<br>"And how about you?"  
>"Nothing's wrong. Let's pay visit to the guns."<p>

Their position was a line of cannons in front of the Stone Streams. Colonel commanding them welcomed two generals with a nod. Kristiani smiled to him.  
>"Ready?"<br>"Whenever you command, sirs.", the man answered, briefly looking over his guns. Kristiani nodded and glanced at Olafsen, who shrugged.  
>"Your command, your call."<br>"Thanks." Kristiani grinned and looked at artillery commander. "Then if you were so king, colonel, start pounding them."  
>"Right away, sir."<br>Orders were passed and the man rose his hand. Generals stepped back a bit. The gun crews were looking at the raised hand. And… _swoosh_, the hand went down, and the fire touched the fuses. A second for them to burn and…  
><em> BOOM!<em>, thunders roared along the line, guns jumped back, smoke filled the air. Gun crews jumped to them immediately, started to roll them forward, clean, pick up the powder load and next shot. Much quieter _boom _of shots reaching their destinations. A runner emerged from the smoke a moment later.  
>"Sirs, watchers report targets hit the position of enemy camp, but so far, no answer."<br>"Good." Olafsen looked at the artilleryman. "We'll be with the watchers. Do your job, colonel."  
>"Aye.", the man just answered, clearly more focused on his guns than superiors. Jens and Rasmus followed the messenger through the clouds of black smoke, the former coughing a bit. A moment later another loud thunder pierced the air and roared, sending shots towards the camp. And then another quieter boom when they reached their targets.<br>"I wonder if Weasels actually have guns!", Rasmus said to Jens over the ringing filling their ears.  
>"If they did, they'd probably use them already!"<p>

Another shot was made before they reached the observation tower and climbed upon it. The captain up there saluted quickly and returned to his observations through the spyglass.  
>"There seem to be some movement up there, sirs…" he said. "Hard to tell, the smoke the shots made is covering anything."<br>"Did we hit the camp?", Kristiani asked.  
>"Yes, but every next shot is slightly more off, sir. I'm sending messengers to colonel so that he can fix this."<br>"Good."  
>Olafsen nodded, looking through his own spyglass. It was to be expected. They had days to calibrate the guns for the first round, but every shot was jerking the cannons back and even the best crew couldn't put its gun in the same position as it was before.<br>Another thunder and BOOM of the cannons, and another booms of shots hitting the ground. The explosions of dust and smoke were highlighted by the faint light of lamps in Weasel camp. Olafsen lowered the glass. They just had to hope that the primary goal of the pounding - sowing chaos and confusion - would be reached.  
>"Let's not overdo this…", he murmured silently, looking again at the blazes flashing against the smoke. Somehow, Rasmus heard him over another thunder of the guns.<br>"How can you overdo something like this?", he asked, looking through his own spyglass. "The worse shape they'll be in, the better for our people!"  
>"Sure, but do you see those fires? I'd rather not send our men into some burning inferno."<br>After a moment, Rasmus nodded.  
>"Right. Two more rounds, I'd say?"<br>"Should be enough.", Jens agreed.

After another round, they've sent a messenger to reach artillery with orders to cease fire. Another runner went to infantry commanders. Jens nodded to himself and continued observation.  
>"Damn, I hate that part.", he heard Rasmus murmur.<br>"It figures you'd rather be out there in the front."  
>"Pff… Please. My colonels would call me an idiot and shove me back to headquarters if I dared."<br>Jens smiled a bit and started to answer, but another cannon blast cut through the air and shots whizzed by, ending their flight with boom. This time, something clearly exploded. Jens patted his ears.  
>"Well, somebody forgot to dig in his powder supply…", Rasmus murmured. "On the other hand, infantry should start moving in about now…"<br>"Let's hope they won't be caught in the fire.", Olafsen answered.  
>He watched his men climb up the Streams. From this distance, they looked like darker spots in gray canyons. By now, everybody had practice navigating and moving on slippery slopes, and the warmer temperatures only helped. Still, it seemed as if it was taking them eternity…<br>"Uh-uh… It seems the other guys have arrived…" Rasmus said, leaning forward.  
>Olafsen looked up and saw it, darker spots moving down, taking covers and blocking the paths of Arendellans.<br>"Well, let's hope they truly are starving by now…"  
>Fights broke out and soon the silence of the night was pierced by screams, flashed of shots and bangs of muskets, whizzes of crossbows and clangs of steel meeting steel. All over the line, Arendellans were slowed down, taking covers, returning fire and trying to strike at Weasels. Fights were breaking out in canyons and in-betweens, as one side tried to push another down and both tried to sneak up on each other. Men were screaming, shouting, bleeding and dying, but at this distance, it looked oddly clear. Dots made other dots stop moving. Other dots stopped and then flashed. Dots were running all over the place. The only thing betraying the truth behind this picture were the sounds, and even those appeared muffled.<br>It was an even fight, but only in the beginning. Once both sides ran out of ammunition, it was sword against sword, fist against fist. Weasels might be despaired and brave, but they were also starved and demoralized, and hungry enemy with no morale is weaker, no matter how many of him is there. Slowly but surely, Arendellan forces started to move forward, leaving behind dead, bleeding bodies in red and climbing up, towards the camp…  
>The camp that seemed to be burning. General Olafsen tried to see something, but there were clouds of smoke everywhere.<br>"We _did _overdo this.", he said, looking at Kristiani. "This is gonna get ugly in a moment."  
>"You don't say… Damn, I can't see anything of their camp!"<br>"Neither do I." Olafsen clenched his teeth and murmured, "Let's just hope boys up there can deal with it."

_High Table  
><em>"Do you smell smoke?", general Berg asked, raising his head and turning it to feel the wind better. "I'd swear I smell it in the air."  
>Colonel Hansen, riding on the horse next to the general, narrowed his eyes and smelled the air.<br>"Well… yes, sir, I'd say there's smoke. Coming from… Weasel camp?"  
>"Unless the wind's being tricky, yes. Any of our men were scheduled to attack tonight?"<br>"Uhm…" Hansen scratched the bandage that held his broken hand in place. As he was temporarily out of action, Berg used him a bit as an aide, although Hansen still wasn't even close to Kai's level. But still, Kai was… well, Berg sighed, banishing the thought. At least he's out of harm's way.  
>"No, sir. Nothing that I'd know of."<br>"Right…" Berg looked towards the Weasel camp, but he couldn't pierce the darkness that seemed to have swallowed the valley. Then he narrowed his eyes, because he was fairly sure that he _did _see something… a flicker, perhaps?  
>"Maybe it caught fire…", he said, half to Hansen and half to himself. "Or maybe Jens and Rasmus are moving."<br>"Wouldn't they risk that forces in Tampani will attack them from behind, sir?"  
>"If they believe they can hold them with only a part of their forces… And we ate Weasels' food, so they're probably right."<br>He looked at Hansen.  
>"Would you like a warm dinner tonight? Call everybody. We're moving towards the Weasel camp."<br>"Yes, sir!" The thought of _finally _eating hot food after days of icy cold meals seemed to fill the colonel with fresh energy.

An hour or so later the little Fourth Corps were moving in strength towards Weasels' camp, the injured and sick behind them. There were alarmingly many injured and sick there, and Berg seriously hoped that this flicker he saw, and kept on seeing, was Arendelle army attacking Weasels, and not just a camp fire that got out of control.  
>Scout commander rode to the general and stopped his horse before falling in step with Berg's .<br>"My men say the Weasels are pulling back from the camp. Nothing organized yet, but they're going in our direction."  
>"Great, so let's catch them." Berg turned to his commanders. "Spread our forces. Semicircle, to catch everybody who'd try to escape."<br>He quickly ordered who to which side, keeping Hansen's regiment with him, and officers rode off to work. Soon, the army started to spread around, like a net to catch all the fish scared by Jens and Rasmus into running… Berg nodded to himself, receiving messages about combat readiness from everybody.  
>Soon scouts started to report contact with enemy, and Berg checked if his sword leaves its sheath smoothly. He then summoned runners.<br>"Tell everybody that if pressure is too high, just let Weasels through.", he said, and, seeing surprise in everybody's eyes, added quickly, "I'd rather not have entire regiments wiped out when we're so close."  
>A chorus of yes-sirs, and messengers rode off to pass the order. Berg looked back at the train of injured that followed the centre of the semicircle. Let's hope they won't try to break through here, he thought.<br>A moment later, he heard first shots, clangs and shouts. He pulled out his sword and moved closer to the front, part of him hoping to finally get a taste of battle after commanding his men from behind for so long. He looked to the side, but Hansen was smart enough to stay with the injured instead of trying to fight with a broken hand.  
>First rider jumped out of the darkness, closely followed by other three. Seeing Arendellans, they tried to stop their horses, but momentum carried them forward and Fourth Corps jumped to meet them. Berg grinned, raising his sword and kicking the horse to reach the first man, who barely parried the slash. Mountaineer grabbed his wrist with another hand. He squeezed hard enough for man to let go of the sword. Weasel tried to grab the knife with second hand, but Berg pierced him with his own sword and pushed off the horse. He then turned to where another raider tried to cut him, but he parried and another Arendellan finished the man from behind. Other raiders emerged from the darkness and Berged screamed in joy, finally <em>fighting<em>. Others picked up the primeval call and Arendellans clashed with Weasels like two hammers.  
>Chaos followed. In the darkness, there was only a moment of warning whether the uniform was white or red, and then Berg had to fight or change course. He almost cut another soldier, and was almost stabbed himself a moment later before the three of them found the right enemy. He parried a cut and punched the man in the gut, then slit his throat and turned to parry another sword, pushed with his blade, pulled out a knife, the man tried to cut again, Berg parried with a knife and cut with sword, pierced Weasel's hand with a knife, man screamed, Berg cut his hand off with a sword, man stumbled off the horse and Berg turned again.<br>The blow almost got him from behind, but the turn made it lose strength and instead of getting through, it slid down on the back plate. Berg turned to see him and parried the slash of what looked like ye olde claymore. In the darkness, he saw giant of a man who wielded it - _what is a Dark Ages sword doing here, anyway?_ - and was nearly crushed by clash of their weapons. He kicked the horse and it jumped forward, finding a hole amidst chaos. Huge sword went down, but there was no body to stop it, kicking the giant off-balance and giving Berg the opening. He slashed the man's hand and the giant turned around, sword following his movement. Berg tried to duck, but leaned to far back and…  
>He cursed, falling off the horse, and turned back just in time to hit the ground. He pushed himself back and stood up, grabbing the sword. Giant on the horse loomed over him, ready to behead him. Berg, no little man himself, blocked the slash just in time, then jumped away and tried to cut the horse open. He didn't manage that, but got the saddle belt and leather let go easily. Horse stomped around, Berg jumped back and nearly bumped into somebody's horse. He turned around to see another red uniform ready to open his head. He blocked the cut, then pulled the man by his hand and pierced Weasel's neck. Blood gushed out, spraying on him, half blinding him…<br>_Bonggggg_, he staggered on his feet, huge sword hitting his helmet. Everything went dizzy. He turned around and blocked another shot, leaning back on terrified horse and slipping on the dead body. He fell back, hit something in the saddle, and everything seemed out of focus, the giant figure rose its sword again and Berg tried to bring his to bear, his arm seemed to move so slow… Another horse was coming, but it was hard to see through the haze that surrounded everything, the sword hit, sliding down, Berg braced himself, clenching his teeth, feeling his bones nearly break. The giant aimed for slice that would cut general's stomach open, he tried to defend himself, but when the claymore hit, it nearly sent him flying. He hit the ground, sword fell out of his hand, he rolled on his back, saw the giant, the horse and his rider were close, giant rose his sword to strike and kill him… Berg rolled, mud clearing blood in his eyes, but everything was hazy. The giant made a mistake and the claymore went too deep. Berg caught a sword - his? Dead man's? - and jumped to his feet, getting out of the way of another horse. The giant didn't notice this, trying to rip the sword out of the ground. He barely started turning, but this time, Berg was faster. The sword sliced the man's throat open and the giant fell to the ground, gushing blood like macabre fountain. Berg barely managed to take a breath when a kick hit his neck and he was sent forward, his vision hazy and dizzy and out of focus. He started to turn around, seeing sword ready to take him and knowing he won't be nearly quick enough this time…  
>He blinked, seeing the soldier's head fall off his arms. Behind him, man in white was on a horse.<br>"Sir! You there?"  
>"Doin' fine!", he said, pulling the dead body off the horse and climbing on the animal. It was harder than he remembered.<br>Finally up, he looked at the soldier who saved his life. The kid was just finishing off somebody else. Berg parried the slash aimed at the soldier and shook his head, trying to clear his sight. The kid looked at him.  
>"Sir, pull back! We'll handle that!"<br>He wanted to argue, but couldn't, so he tried to escape the fight. It wasn't easy. It seemed like everything was filled with men and horses and blood and flashes and clanks of swords. He had to defend himself a few times and by the time he escaped the fight, there was a huge cut on his forehead, but he didn't remember how it got there… He nearly fell off the horse before somebody caught him.

_Weselton camp  
><em> Sun was rising slowly, shining on bloody remnants of the battle. It was nearly as bad as Jens feared it would be. Standing in the middle of what used to be Weasels' camp by Stone Streams, general Olafsen could feel the stench of burned wood, gunpowder and, worst of all, flesh filling the air all around him. Dead bodies lied all around, even though soldiers tried to carry them to give them something like a proper burial. Many died of sword or crossbow bolts, some even from musket shot, but almost as many, if not more, were burned or looked as if they were unharmed. The smoke, probably.  
>"I'm… kind of happy that most of those have red uniforms." Rasmus said quietly, standing next to Jens. Like everybody, he had a scarf wrapped around his face so that he wouldn't smell everything. Jens did so too, but the odor still found its way into general's mouth and nose.<br>"Me too.", he admitted. "We did take some prisoners."  
>"Pity we can't exchange them for any ours."<br>Jens nodded. So far, the nature of battles the fought had stopped anybody from taking prisoners. He also doubted that Berg or his opponents on the High Table took any.  
>On the High Table…<br>"Well, we made it.", he said a bit louder. "We're officially on the territory Weasels consider their own."  
>"Yaaay.", Kristiani said in emotionless tone. "You don't mind if I celebrate after this…" He looked around the bodies. "…will be cleaned up?"<br>"Sure. I'm just saying."  
>Rasmus nodded. Before he answered, a scout ran to them. He saluted briefly and said:<br>"Sir, we made contact with the Fourth Corps!"

"Hi. You look like shit.", general Kristiani stated, entering the tent.  
>"Thanks, Rasmus. Nice to see you too. At least you haven't changed in the slightest. Hi, Jens."<br>Rubbing the bandage on his head, Berg glared and Kristiani, who only shrugged. Olafsen sighed and passed Bjorn a cup of tea. Berg nearly spilled it, and then nearly burned himself in hurry to drink something hot. Finally, he breathed with what sounded a lot like ecstasy.  
>"Finally!" He looked at two other generals, who were eying each other with barely concealed smiles. "Hey, <em>you <em>try spending three weeks with nothing but ice cold water to drink!"  
>"We're not saying anything…" Jens stated slowly. "Anyway, how are you doing?"<br>"Seems like I've gotten myself a concussion. Nothing too serious, but I still see a bit hazy."  
>"So… not in shape for any ventures anytime soon?", Rasmus asked.<br>"Not really, and nor is the Fourth. You've got any plan?"  
>"You could call it like this, yes. The general idea is this: their only general right now, Windsor, is stuck in Tamapani trail, as you've cut him off and so far we're holding him from our side as well." Rasmus snapped his fingers. "So we take part of our forces and hit him from behind…"<br>"…hoping that our side will hold…", Jens added.  
>"…and finish him off before he can break out." Rasmus finished. "And if our side wouldn't hold, we keep part of our forces here, both up and down the Streams, to stop whatever he'd send towards Arendelle."<br>"Alright." Berg nodded, taking another sip, this time carefully. "So… I guess you're running off to kick Windsor's ass, and I'm staying here and keep an eye on things?"  
>"If it's not a problem for you."<br>"Why would it be?" Berg shrugged and drank a bit again. "I guess Streams aren't exactly horse-friendly?"  
>"Not really. So… can we take yours?" Olafsen asked.<br>"Feel free. I'll tell Hansen to give them to you." He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and remembered one more detail. "Oh, and I think it would be nice to send somebody towards the Rollinson Gate. Just in case."  
>"Don't worry. Will be done."<br>Berg nodded, enjoying the warm cup under his fingers.

_Rollinson Gate_  
>So, in the end, they did make Gardner go with them, as he supposedly knew the terrain. George could tell them a lot about the terrain, mostly that it was the same boring flat surface all over the place. Still, higher-ups commanded, so lieutenants obeyed, and so George Gardner found himself riding through the wide passage of Rollins Gate again, in front of a column of over two thousand cavalrymen.<br>He looked forward and shielded his eyes, seeing the sun slowly rising over the horizon. It seemed like a warmer day was coming, with clouds slowly moving away, making way for blue sky. Nice. Perhaps merchies wouldn't sneak up on Gardner like they had done before. Lieutenant lowered his eyes and patted Traveler on the neck.  
>"Alright, buddy. Time for round two."<p> 


	29. Chapter 29: Spying for dummies

_Before the chapter starts - once again, sorry for it being late. The new term at school is starting and amount of time I have for writing is getting steadily smaller. Which is why **from now on I'll be posting new chapters on Mondays and Fridays only**, without Wednesday chapter. Perhaps later everything will calm down enough for me to return to posting three times a week again, but for now - Mondays and Fridays. Sorry!  
><em>_'kay, now on with the chapter:_

_""""_

_Weselton  
><em>"Just what _exactly _do you think you're doing?", Kristoff asked with annoyance, looking down on Kai. Young major was gripping the windowsill, his knuckles white, staring at castle wall, insanely high cliff below it, and dark waves that were hitting it with audible cracks. He gulped.  
>"J-just looking. You know, it's… kind of… high here…"<br>Kristoff sighed.  
>"May I remind you that it was your idea to do this? Besides, there's a line wrapped around you waist, the other end of which is in my hands right now! All you have to do is to hold to it and avoid windows. What's the big deal?"<br>"E-easy f-for you to say…" Kai gripped the windowsill even stronger, feeling - to his panic - that his sweating fingers are starting to slide down. "I-it looked much l-less high when I l-looked at it f-from the inside…"  
>"Then don't look down! We've got something of a time limit here, so start going down or I'll push you!"<br>Kai looked up and realized with terror that Kristoff was more than ready to make good on his threat. Madsen swallowed and slowly started to let go of the windowsill. His treacherous fingers did the job for him, though, and he nearly squealed, falling down.  
>After a second, he covered his mouth with one hand and breather deeply. Finally, he opened his eyes. He was hanging perhaps twenty centimetres below the windowsill, the strung line hurting his back. Kristoff looked at him from above, and even with the glow from the room behind the mountaineer, Kai could see the man's sour expression.<br>"You see? It wasn't that bad."  
>"Uhm… no?"<br>"Great. Now, let's keep moving. We don't have all night for this."  
>Oh, right, Kai remembered. It was just the first step.<p>

Over the past few days king Charles had been becoming increasingly hard to communicate with and Kai - as well as Kristoff and prince Eric - suspected that this was because he wanted to squeeze Arendellans more before giving them his terms of peace. One of such "squeezes" was the fact that whenever one of Arendellans wanted to go to their ship, they were diplomatically, but firmly told that the king would much rather they stayed in the castle - for their own security and other blah blah, effectively cutting them from their only mean of communication with Arendelle. Kai hadn't been happy about this and decided that it was about time somebody explained to king Charles that the ruler can't do everything he pleases. Major had come up with a plan to send the message to Her Majesty and therefore make the Arendelle ship leave Weselton on its own accord, which should bring Charles to heel, at least a bit. However, the message had to leave the castle first, and so the plan to sneak out was born.  
>Why Kai had decided to go with Kristoff was beyond him right now.<p>

Actually… after some time, going down turned out to be rather easy. After Kristoff, having tied the line to himself as well, exited the room and started to climb down, Kai's only job was to push himself away from the wall and sometimes grab it and push himself so that he wouldn't fly in front of somebody's window. After some time, he even felt confident enough to grab the wall and ease the job for Kristoff, who so far had carried the weight of both Arendellans.  
>Of course, Kai's confidence couldn't last long. It ended along with the castle wall, as he slipped on smooth stone and lost his grip. He nearly squealed, dangled on the line and heard Kristoff puffing in surprise over him. Kai grabbed the line with both hands and looked up. Mountaineer looked back down on him.<br>"What was that?", Kristoff whispered.  
>"Castle ended. Stone is sort of slippery.", Kai answered with equally quiet voice.<br>"Well, it's stone. Of course it's slippery. Don't do this again!"  
>"O-okay…" Kai felt tempted to look down, but closed his eyes and decided not to. After a moment, he nearly squeaked again when he started moving down. He cautiously opened his eyes and looked at the smooth, gray cliff sliding in front of him as Kristoff was making his way down.<br>Hearing the hum and crack of the waves growing louder, Kai realized that Kristoff had already went under the castle and was somehow climbing down on the cliff. Where does he find foot- and handholds here?, Kai asked in his head. I sure don't see anything …  
>"Kai!", Kristoff gasped. "How far down is the bottom?"<br>Kai swallowed and looked down. A few meters below him, waves were hitting the cliff, sending the spray everywhere and cracking ominously. They gleamed in the light coming from Kai's left. When major looked that way, he saw the pier of royal port. The guards were standing far away, under one of the lamps, apparently blinded by it enough not to see two Arendellans on the cliff.  
>"So?!", Kristoff asked a bit louder. Kai looked up and whispered.<br>"Uhm, close! And you have to go to the left or we'll end up swimming! Also, guards!"  
>"Great…", he heard Kristoff grunt and after a moment, line jerked as the mountaineer started to move towards the pier. Waves hit and crashed repetitively into the wall, spraying Kai's boots with water and making his heart jump with every crack. At least the wind was almost absent, and the sky was clouded, masking two Arendellans… He looked down again, then up at Kristoff.<br>"Okay, we're over land…"  
>He looked back at two guards on the pier, but they were obviously more interested in their game of cards than any sort of intruders that would climb down the cliff. Kai figured not many people would have enough strength and skill to do this, much less carrying another person with him. What are mountaineers made of, he asked himself, steel? Well, that would explain how Kristoff can find holds on smooth wall, he's just punching holes in it… Kai nearly chuckled, but his laughter died when he felt wooden planks of the pier beneath his feet. He breathed with relief, and after a moment stood surely, then moved away to make place for Kristoff, grinning, feeling the solid ground - or at least <em>any <em>ground - once again. Mountaineer joined him a moment later and the two untied the line. Then they localized Arendelle ship and started to walk in its direction.  
>Creaks of wood under their feet finally alerted guards to their presence and the two Weseltonians stood up and approached Arendellans quickly. Recognizing the 'diplomats', they stopped.<br>"Uhm… I'm sorry, gentlemen, but at this time the port is closed…", one of them said. Kai took a breath and smiled to him.  
>"Well, the palace guard didn't stop us, so I figure we can be here."<br>While the first part of the sentence was most definitely true, the second… not so much. Still, it was a nice, diplomatic kind of lie. The guards looked at each other and nodded.  
>"Well… yes, your grace, I… guess.", the one who had spoken before said and let the Arendellans pass. As the two of them were approaching their ship, Kristoff leaned to Kai and murmured:<br>"Nice. You keep on doing this good and your father will dump you into diplomatic corps before you manage to say 'I don't want to'."  
>"I… think I'd rather not…"<br>"Hey, that could be nice training."  
>"For <em>what<em>?"  
>"You know, if he's still planning to marry you off to Elsa…"<br>Kai stopped as if he hit a wall, feeling his cheeks redden. He turned and glared at Kristoff, who seemed to be holding back laughter.  
>"Is it… really… I mean… come on! Is it really a good moment to remind me about it?!"<br>Kristoff just shrugged and resumed walking to the ship as if nothing happened. Kai wiped sweat off his forehead and caught up with him.

"So… I'm supposed to leave the port right now, in the middle of the night, and pass this message to Her Majesty?", the captain said cautiously.  
>"Yes, exactly.", Kai answered, nodding. "Can you do this, please?"<br>"Well, it depends on the wind…" The man looked around. "Anyway, I'll do my best and hope Weasels won't try to catch me."  
>"I don't think they would. Technically, diplomatic immunity still applies."<br>Something like a snort came from Kristoff's direction, but mountaineer said nothing.  
>"And what if you'll have to leave in hurry?", the sailor asked.<br>"We still have snow horses, and they can walk on water."  
>"Oh, right…" The captain didn't seem all too happy about this proof of Queen's magic - or sorcery - but if he had any doubts, he kept them to himself. "Then I guess I'll start preparing the ship."<br>"Thank you, captain."  
>The man nodded and turned back, walking towards ship's quarters. Kai and Kristoff started to go off the vessel when they noticed somebody walking off another ship at the end of the pier. Kristoff narrowed his eyes.<br>"Looks like this spymaster guy to me…", he murmured and then squeaked when Kai yanked him down. "What the…?!"  
>"Hunter can't see us!", Kai whispered, hiding behind the ship's rails. "He'll raise alarm and we can forget about ship leaving the port!"<br>"Wasn't it you who said that diplomatic immunity still applies?"  
>"<em>Technically<em>."  
>"Ah, right." Kristoff raised his head a bit, so that only his hair and eyes were visible over the rail. "He seems not to care, though. He's got some papers in his hands and he's staring at them… He didn't even look at the guards… well, he passed us already."<br>"Okay." Kai stood up again and slowly walked off the ship, Kristoff right behind him. "I wonder what's in those papers…"  
>"Some spy report, I guess.", Kristoff answered equally quietly, keeping a few meters' distance from Hunter, who seemed oblivious to two Arendellans following him.<br>"I wish I knew what's in it…", Kai murmured. "I don't even know how the war's going."  
>"We'll ask Lee tomorrow."<br>Kai nodded and silence fell as the two of them followed Hunter up the hill. It seemed steeper now, when not on snow horse's back, but luckily, none of the Arendellans were in bad enough shape as to start puffing when they reached the top of the cliff. Kai was staring at Hunter's back, curious to no end about contents of the message. It's a pity we can't steal it from him, he though. Maybe father could pull out of it who's spying on us… He stopped as Hunter stopped. The Weseltonian folded the message and tucked it into his pocket, then resumed his march. Kai followed.  
>After a minute, Kristoff leaned to him.<br>"Kai, where are we going?"  
>Madsen blinked and looked around. Then he looked back. They passed the castle gate a while ago already, and now it seemed they were going along the wall towards… somewhere.<br>"I don't know. Let's find out."  
>Kristoff nodded, and then pulled Kai into some shadow as Hunter turned back. The spymaster looked around warily, but apparently decided that there wasn't anybody here, because he turned back and started to walk again.<br>"I don't know a thing about espionage, but he seems kind of sloppy for master of spies.", Kristoff whispered as two Arendellans started to follow him again.  
>"I bet he's been the spymaster for few years by now.", Kai answered. "He can't have many opportunities to practice his spy skills."<br>"True."

After a while, it turned out they were taking some narrow path between castle wall and massive slope of mountain behind the royal residence. Kai looked on the ground. Grass and mud seemed well-worn, to his worry. Either Hunter was taking this path often, or it was guarded. He looked up. Well, he told himself, let's just hope Hunter avoids the guards.  
>They emerged on the other side of the castle unbothered and Hunter started going downhill. Kai and Kristoff stopped, blinking, looking down at the city below and in front of them.<br>"What the…?", the latter asked, looking at the shore bathed in torchlight, ships, endless activity and darkened, calmer houses further away from the sea. Kristoff shook his head.  
>"That's the city of Weselton, right? He's going there, why?"<br>"No idea. Let's go before we lose him."  
>They followed Hunter downhill. The road was paved with stone, so two Arendellans walked on the side of it, in the mud, to remain silent, but as they came closer to the city, they had to walk on the road again, and hope that the noises of night life would drown the sounds of two pairs of shoes.<br>They seemed to be lucky with that. Despite the late hour, streets were all but empty. People were walking, carrying crates and supplies to bars and shops, others were running on late errands, ladies of doubtful repute walked among them, fanning themselves and glancing invitingly at passing men, dogs were looking for some food, drinkers were walking - or staggering - from pub to pub, everyone seemed to be talking, music and singing could be heard from one window, loud argument was changing into a fight behind one door, somebody was throwing somebody else out of a bar…  
>It was hard to follow Hunter in this flurry of human activity and after a moment, Kai gave up and decided to rely on Kristoff. Tall mountaineer stood a head higher than most people and seemed to see Hunter. Avoiding a fight that moved from pub to the street, he pulled Kai behind him to some side alley where a lonely man sat under the wall, empty bottle in his hand. Kai saw Hunter, disappearing at the end of the alley, and followed, stepping carefully over the drunk, Kristoff right behind him. They emerged to another street again and Kai looked to the right, searching the crowd for any sight of Hunter.<br>"Can you see him?", he asked Kristoff.  
>"No… no… oh, wait. I think that's him." He started to walk and Kai followed him.<br>"What is he doing?", he asked.  
>"Talking with somebody by the entrance of some pub."<br>Kai nodded, following Kristoff and avoiding eyes of a woman with way too much make-up and fan in attention-catching colour. He nearly blushed when she blinked to him and she waved her fan invitingly, he stumbled, hitting Kristoff in the back.  
>"Watch out… Great, where is he?"<br>"Uhm… sorry. Maybe he came in?"  
>"Let's hope so…"<br>The pub was called _The Red Boar_. Kai and Kristoff entered without any trouble, but standing in the door-frame, major felt shiver running down his spine and his fingers tingling, as if they wanted to grab a sword. He looked around. _Red Boar _was smelling of smoke, beer and sweat, plunged into half-darkness, with bartender who was missing part of his ear and tables and walls that looked as if they had taken a lot of beating before. The people crowding the bar, sitting by the tables, playing cards, drinking and glancing warily at the new arrivals were clearly not the society's finest. Scarred, tattooed, clearly beaten, clearly very dangerous. Kai wished he hadn't left his knife back in room in the castle.  
>"Well, seems like your classic bad-guy bar", Kristoff whispered to his ear. "Let's find a table or something, people are starting to stare."<br>It seemed to Kai like all tables were taken already, but finally the Arendellans managed to find one in the corner. They say by it and mountaineer scanned the place.  
>"Don't know about you, but I can't see him."<br>Kai did the same, stretching his neck a bit.  
>"I can't see anybody as well. Uhm… have you got any money? I think the waitress got interested in us."<br>"Oh. Wait…" Both men searched their pockets and finally came up with a tiny collection of small change and a single silver coin which Kai hid immediately, just in case.  
>"Well… maybe it'll be enough for two <em>very <em>small beer…" Kristoff said dubiously, looking at the small coins. Kai shrugged, looking around.  
>"Maybe we could try to win something in cards?"<br>"With those dudes?" Kristoff shook his head, looking at the closest table of players. "We'd regret winning."  
>"Right…"<br>Waitress approached them and eyed the pile of coins with dubious look.  
>"Two small ale, if you might?", Kristoff said, smiling. She nodded and left.<br>"I hope she won't mind your accent.", Kai murmured.  
>"Kai, it's a bad-guy bar. I bet Arendellans in times of war are small potatoes to what she usually sees here."<br>"'Bad-guy bar'? What kind of term is that?"  
>"Fitting."<br>"Great." Kai looked around, but couldn't disagree. Somebody close to him started to smoke and he nearly coughed, feeling tobacco stench fill the air. Kristoff winced but didn't say anything. Kai shook his head and asked:  
>"How are we going to find Hunter now? If he's not anywhere in the bar…"<br>"Well… oh, I have an idea. Give me that silver coin."  
>"Okay… why?"<p>

When the waitress returned to them with two small glasses of beer, she immediately noticed the coin with which Kristoff was playing.  
>"Can I help you anymore?", she asked, collecting the payment for the beer.<br>"Well, yes.", Kristoff smiled to her a bit. "We're looking for a man here, you see. Tall, slim, dark hair, manicured fingers. Dressed in brown coat. Have you seen him here, perhaps?"  
>Oh, I don't believe it, Kai thought, inhaling slowly. <em>That<em>'s his genius plan? Why would she tell us?  
>The waitress looked at Kristoff suspiciously, then at the coin.<br>"Perhaps… and why are you looking for him?"  
>Aaand here this idea dies, Kai thought to himself. He was apparently wrong, though, as Kristoff winced and said:<br>"He owes us money."  
>To Kai's infinite surprise, it worked.<br>"Ooh. Oh, boy." The waitress rubbed her chin and indicated the stairs next to the bar. "He went up to talk with Old Rick. He's Drachner's man, so I wouldn't interrupt if I were you."  
>"Ah, alright. Thank you." Kristoff snapped his fingers and the coin landed in waitress' hands. The woman smiled and left. Kai nodded, looking at mountaineer.<br>"Nice. Maybe after we'll come back, I'll tell father to borrow you when he needs some spying done."  
>"Great, just what I wanted…" Kristoff sighed and looked at the stairs, taking a sip of his beer. "Hey, that's good… Anyway, what do we do now?"<br>He glanced at Kai.  
>"Why are we even here, anyway?"<br>"Because we wanted to know what Hunter is doing… I wonder who this Drachner guy is…", he added in a whisper.  
>"It seems the waitress expected us to know. More, I bet everybody here knows."<br>"So what, do you intend to ask them as well?"  
>"Nah, we're out of money. So what do we do, drink and wait until he leaves?"<br>Kai bit his lip. I all honesty, he didn't know what to do. He had followed Hunter because he had been curious, but now it turned out the man had some dealings with criminal world. Was it of any interest to Arendellans? Kai's father probably kept contact with smugglers and the likes of them in Arendelle as well, if only to help him with his official job. Hunter's visit to this Drachner was probably simply something routine…  
>He had gone here right after getting this message - spy report or whatever it was. That probably meant that the message and the man were somehow connected, so it would probably be wise of Kai to check out.<br>"No… let's find out what Hunter and this Old Rick are talking about."  
>"Fantastic, and how do we get past this giant who's watching the stairs?"<br>"Uhm…" Kai stretched his neck and looked at the huge man leaning on the wall next to the stairs. "We exit and try to enter from behind?"  
>"Don't you think that if there is this man standing in the front, there will also be one watching the back?"<br>"True… But it's still worth a try, and less 'bad guys' to fight if things go wrong."  
>Kristoff sighed, but finished his beer quickly and followed Kai out of <em>The Red Boar<em>.

In fact, there was a back exit. Unfortunately, as Kristoff predicted, there was a man standing in front of it. He had a huge bat in his hands and he obviously knew what to do with it. His small eyes were wary, and he looked around in irregular intervals, scanning the area.  
>"Change of the watch must've happened recently.", Kristoff murmured, looking from behind the corner. "Or he's so alert all the times, in which case he isn't human."<br>"Bad for us… You think we could knock him down?"  
>Kristoff looked at Kai with disbelief.<br>"Seriously? What if he calls support?"  
>Kai shrugged, looking up at the mountaineer.<br>"Then we run. Come on, let's give it a try. If it won't work out, nothing happens."  
>"Yeah, sure.", Kristoff murmured, looking at the bat the man was swinging around. He wanted to tell Kai that the idea is idiotic, but to his terror, the major already started to go in man's direction. "You're worse than Anna!", Kristoff murmured under his breath and followed him quickly, ignoring the pang of worry for the princess.<br>The watchman saw Kai and stood up, grasping his bat stronger.  
>"Hey, you! This entrance's closed, so outta my sight."<br>"Eh… no.", Kai said and kicked.  
>The kick was powerful and aimed at rather fragile place, not to mentioned that the watchmen didn't <em>quite <em>expect a fight from someone two heads shorter. Surprised, he let out a gasp and curled a bit, then started to shout, trying to aim the bat at Kai. Kristoff was faster. He jumped to the man and covered his mouth before scream escaped it, pushing him on the wall and kicking him with a knee in the stomach. Kai grabbed the bat and ripped it out of man's hands, then took a swing and hit him over the head with it. Watchman's eyes rolled and the man slumped to the ground.  
>"Thanks.", Kristoff murmured. "Now let's hope nobody saw this."<br>They waited a moment, but it seemed that the short fight didn't alarm anyone. Kai nodded and Kristoff pulled the body into the deepest shadow. Then the two of them approached the door. To their joy, they weren't locked. Kristoff raised his eyebrows, pushing them slowly.  
>"Open. Seriously?"<br>"Well, you can't expect watchmen to look for the key when he needs a toilet break.", Kai noted with a ghost of a smile.  
>Kristoff nodded and entered the place, carefully looking around. It was dark, but it seemed no one was hiding in the shadows, ready to strike at two Arendellans too smart for their own good. To his right, there were stairs leading up and down. Hearing Kai entering and closing the door behind him, Kristoff slowly walked up, wincing as he heard the wood creak under his feet. Alright, chill. You've already beaten up one of the guards…<br>Upstairs, there wasn't anybody. Kristoff slowly started to walk down the corridor, listening by the doors. Finally, he heard something. He waved to Kai to hurry and listened.  
>"…disappeared! Just what was Drachner <em>thinking<em>?!" That was clearly Hunter, Kristoff heard him before. But who was he talking about? Who had disappeared?  
>"I don't think Drachner's business is your business.", cold voice answered him. Must be this Old Rick guy, Kristoff thought.<br>"Oh, really? Kidnapping of Arendelle heiress is not my business?!"  
>He's talking about <em>Anna<em>? Kristoff's eyes widened in shock. Whoever Drachner was, he had kidnapped Anna… His blood went hot and he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to listen.  
>"Do you imagine what will merchies think?!", Hunter kept on ranting. "Look, I'm aiding you with Drachner's plans, but this is <em>not <em>what I agreed on!"  
>"You think he cares about your feelings? Drachner has more on his head than you, so stop panicking! She's not even in Weselton!"<br>So where?, Kristoff asked. Come on, you bastard, tell me where my Anna is!  
>"I don't care where she is! She can be in Far East and I wouldn't mind! What I care about is that this goddamn witch queen of theirs will think that it's us who kidnapped her!"<br>"So what? She'll continue the war, just as you want."  
>"Yes, but I do <em>not <em>want her to freeze me and my country, for hell's sake!"  
>Old Rick chuckled. Kristoff felt himself clenching his fists and breathe heavily. You bastard, you know where she is!<br>"Don't worry, mister Hunter. Once the truth comes out, nobody will suspect Weselton, and I'm sure you'll be more than happy about the results."  
>"Like hell I will!", Hunter screamed and Kristoff barely moved away from the door before they bumped open and furious spymaster exited, going to the main stairs. He didn't even notice crouching Arendellans. Kristoff stood up with clenched fists. He wanted to catch Hunter, pin him to the wall and get answers out of him, but before he could move, he felt Kai's hand on his shoulder. Right. He doesn't know anything. But there is someone who does… And he'll <em>speak<em>.  
>Kristoff stormed into the room, standing face to face with some bloke. He didn't care. He punched the man in the throat, then in the stomach, then thrown him to the table, where the man hit the edge. Having him out of the way, Kristoff looked at small, bald man behind him. He grabbed him by his neck, pulled him up, then hit the wall with him, leaning closer. The man's feet dangled in the air and Old Rick looked in Kristoff's eyes with fear.<br>"Who the hell are you?"  
>"Not your business!", Kristoff growled. "I'm the one to ask questions here, so you better answer!"<br>Old Rick swallowed, and Kristoff leaned even closer.  
>"Where. Is. Princess. Anna?!"<p> 


	30. Chapter 30: Conspiracies

_Weselton_  
>„Where. Is. Princess. Anna?!" Kristoff growled, shaking the body of Old Rick with each word. Kai swallowed, standing at the door and looking at bodyguard Kristoff had just trashed. He looked at the mountaineer again and decided it would be prudent not to interfere.<br>"What… makes you think I'd tell you?", the bald man asked, although terror was clearly audible in his voice.  
>"You're going to tell me or I'll gut you, you bastard!" Kristoff screamed. Kai swallowed again.<br>"Y-you don't have a knife…" Old Rick noted.  
>"Your worthless excuse of a bodyguard has!", Kristoff said. "Kai, give me his knife! I'm going cut this piece of trash open!"<br>Major decided it actually would be a good time to interfere.  
>"Are you sure gutting is the best option? I mean… you know…"<br>"So I'll keep off cutting parts of his body until the bastard starts to talk!"  
>"Uhm…" Kai tried to oppose the idea, but then Kristoff glared at him, and… Well, when such a glare comes from such a big man - especially one that is usually quite calm… Kai started to search for the knife. Old Rick opened his eyes wider.<br>"No, no, no, no, no, you don't have to do this, I'll talk!"  
>Kristoff narrowed his eyes and the man started to panic.<br>"I swear, I swear, I swear!"  
>Kristoff's answer was to let go of man's neck and Old Rick slumped on the ground. Kristoff pulled himself a chair. Kai looked outside, but it seemed that screaming, panicked people were commonplace in <em>The Red Boar<em>, because nobody seemed interested in what was going on. He closed the door, then, and leaned on the wall, looking at Old Rick. Kristoff seemed to have gotten hold of himself, seeing how he managed not to clench his fists.  
>"So.", he said. "If you're talking, I'm listening."<br>"Yes, yes, yes… Right…" Old Rick took a breath and continued, "Drachner… Drachner ordered me to have her kidnapped."  
>"Who's Drachner?", Kai asked.<br>"Drachner, he's… the boss. _The _boss. I mean, all around the Inner Sea every smuggler pays him his due, everyone works for him…"  
>"Every?" Kai wasn't quite convinced.<br>"Well… Almost." Old Rick swallowed. "But most of them do, and everybody else is small fish compared to Drachner."  
>"Why did he order the kidnapping?", Kristoff asked, in voice that one might, having seen his previous explosion, call calm.<br>"A-a-I don't know! He didn't tell me, I didn't question! You don't question Drachner! He tells you to jump, you jump, he tells you to kidnap princesses, you go and kidnap goddamn princesses!"  
>Kristoff looked like he wanted to start shaking answers out of the man again, so Kai decided to ask currently more important question.<br>"Where is she, then?"  
>Old Rick looked at Kai.<br>"Well, I don't know where she is now…"  
>Is he suicidal?, Kai asked in his head, glancing at Kristoff, whose concern for his girlfriend was apparently manifesting as shrieking fury again.<br>"Where was she _supposed _to go?", major asked quickly.  
>"The… The Southern Isles."<br>Both Arendellans blinked and looked at each other.  
>"Hans hired him?", Kristoff asked with sudden worry in his eyes.<br>"He's under house arrested, as far as I know…" Kai looked at Old Rick. "Where in the Southern Isles?"  
>"K-Koenigsberg…"<br>"Koe-where?", Kristoff asked, baffled.  
>"It's their capital.", Kai told him and returned to the old man, who tried to stand up on shaky legs. "So, is she there already?"<br>"I don't know!"  
>"Don't play an idiot, it's your ship and you don't know anything?", Kristoff snapped.<br>"I mean… I haven't gotten any information yet!"  
>"And when should you get it?", Kai asked.<br>"A… a few days ago…"  
>Kristoff's fury was completely gone by now, replaced with absolute worry. Kai looked at Old Rick, but the man obviously didn't know anything else. Now, what should Kai and Kristoff do? They had to find Anna somehow…<br>Not really. First and foremost, we have to negotiate peace with Weselton, he reminded himself. He could send message to father, as baron had to know about this Drachner… oh, damn it, the ship had probably left by now. But still, their primary task here were negotiations…  
>"Kristoff, let's go.", he told him. "He won't tell us anything more, and it's about time we returned to the castle."<br>Kristoff clenched his teeth, then nodded.  
>"Alright. But first… give me the key to this room."<p>

Having left _The Red Boar _and the locked room with Old Rick and his still unconscious bodyguard inside, two Arendellans started to trot uphill, towards the castle. When they finally left the city, Kai turned to Kristoff.  
>"I hope to catch up with the ship before it leaves.", he told him. "I'll tell father to look into Drachner, he should find Anna then."<br>"Thanks, but I don't think we'll make it in time." Kristoff picked up speed and Kai followed suit.  
>"I know, but otherwise we'll have to wait until it returns… I know!", Kai said and nearly stumbled on some badly fitted cobble. Kristoff caught him before his face met the ground and Kai continued, "Snow horse! I'll write the message and catch up with the ship on the snow horse!"<br>"Nice, only they'll have to let you out of the castle again first…"  
>They slowed down by the castle gates. The guardsman at the entrance looked at them in surprise.<br>"Your graces? I thought you were…"  
>"We weren't.", Kristoff cut him. "Let us in."<br>"I think…"  
>"Now, if you were so kind.", Kai added, feeling the clock ticking in his head.<br>"I shouldn't…"  
>"<em>Now.<em>", Kristoff added with exasperation.  
>"Oh, alright…" The guardsman, obviously out of his depth, opened one gate of the door for them.<br>"Don't close them!", Kai said upon entering, "I'll be leaving in a moment!"  
>"I don't think you should, your grace…", the man started to say, but Kai had already left.<br>Kai looked around dark courtyard, thinking. Where were the stables? Were the snow horses even in the…  
>"Here!", he heard Kristoff whispering loudly and went in the direction of huge door. Upon entering, his nose was attacked by wave of hay and other equine smells, as well as incredible coldness. Horses seemed to be shivering, looking uneasily in one direction. Kai followed their line of sight and saw the two snow horses, their personal snow clouds giving them a slightly comical appearance. Kristoff was already by their side, untying the line that held one of them. He glanced at Kai.<br>"And what are you going to write this letter on?", he asked.  
>"Oh… I'll add it as PS to letter to father?"<br>"Right.", he patted the snow horse on the neck and winced when the creature didn't react. "Then go."  
>Kai jumped on the horse and gave the animal a slight kick.<br>"Oh, come on!", he said when it barely started to walk. "Look, I have to get to the royal port as fast as possible, and king Charles will most probably try to stop me, so gates might close any minute now…"  
>The snow horse turned to look at him and Kai would swear it nodded. Then he yelped and grabbed its neck as it suddenly jolted out of the stable and took a sharp turn, the gates were being closed, Kai hid his face in icy, maneless neck of the horse as it run forward nevertheless… He started to shiver from the cold…<br>Then he realized he can't hear the tramp of hooves on the ground. He looked up and gasped.  
>The doors were closed… And the horse created itself a snowy, steep path leading <em>over <em>the castle walls. Kai looked down and managed to notice somebody staring in shock, and then snow horse's icy hooves hit the top of the castle wall. The animal started to gallop down. Kai turned around and noticed the path melting behind them, still somehow keeping them in the air. Horse landed on the ground and Kai grabbed its neck again, looking forward. Creature turned towards the royal port and jumped, taking similar shortcut as before to land on the path leading to the pier. Then, without further ado, it started to gallop forward. Jumping up and down on its back, Kai shielded his eyes - the cloud was snowing on him - and looked at the port and behind, searching for the ship… Yes! It was still in the bay, although only lights were visible.  
>"Right, buddy, you've got some super-speed mode, right? Can you<em>aaaaah<em>!" The last one was caused when suddenly snow horse picked up speed, nearly throwing Kai off, and major held on to its neck for dear life. Everything around him blurred, and he barely registered two surprised guards jumping away.  
>"Sorry!", he called but he was on the sea already and the ship was growing closer, and closer, and closer…<br>"Slow down, slow down!"  
>And it did, fast enough that he nearly fell over its neck. Kai grabbed it even stronger and breathed heavily for a the next minute or so as the snow horse trotted - cheerfully, he'd swear - next to the ship.<br>"Uhm… baron Madsen. Forgot something?", he heard the captain next to him. He looked to his right. The sailor was looking at him and the snow horse with mixture of worry and barely concealed amusement. Kai managed a weak smile.  
>"Well, yes… I have to add something to one of the messages…"<p>

Prince Eric was looking out of the huge window in castle's corridor, watching Kai and his… "snow horse"… return to the castle. The weird creature of the queen of Arendelle - witch queen of Arendelle, he heard among the servants - sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with temperature. It was just that… there was something unnatural about it, plain and simple.  
>He watched as baron Madsen got off the horse and started to dust and shake snow off himself as the snow horse, apparently on its own accord, walked into the stable which prince Kristoff opened for it. The two Arendellans then started to talk with each other, walking into the castle, apparently unbothered by the creature, although baron's legs seemed to be shaking. Eric finally turned away from the window and leaned on the wall, folding his arms.<br>He had been woken up by some odd sound, and realized, upon opening his eyes, that Margaret is not in bed with him. Surprised, Eric had left his room, looking for her, but the search had been suspended when he had seen that Arendellan ship is missing, and that Kai's riding at some impossible speed on this snow horse thing. But now both Arendellans were back in the castle, and matter that pulled Eric out of his bed was still valid - where was his wife?  
>He decided to return to the room, hoping that it was just some minor thing that had made Margaret leave it. On the way, though, he met one of the servants.<br>"Mary, good… hm, evening. Did you see Margaret?"  
>Young cleaner rubbed back of her neck, thinking.<br>"Yes, my lord. She passed me a few minutes ago, when I was going upstairs, on the side staircase."  
>"Thank you." He gave the girl a smile and picked up speed, going to the small staircase which servants and people who didn't want to announce their presence to everyone used. Mary had been going upstairs, so Margaret had been going down. Where to? Counting basements, there were still three floors below this one…<br>He was going down the narrow, circular staircase, when he nearly bumped into colonel Hunter. The two men backed off, eying each other. There was no love lost between them, especially after the war started and Hunter became staunch ally of "let's continue it" approach. Nevertheless, Eric decided to ask.  
>"Oh. Sorry. Did you see Margaret?"<br>"Most definitely not.", the spymaster answered harshly and flattened himself against the wall to let the prince pass. Eric kept on going down until he made sure Hunter started to walked again, and then stopped, thinking. What was the spymaster doing here, so late? He lived in the castle, sure, but his room was on the ground floor, a floor below where Eric was now. What made Hunter go here at this hour?  
>Eric decided to check. He turned and followed the footsteps until he stopped hearing them, then entered the next floor. He hid quickly as Hunter turned around, and waited until he heard the sound of polished boots hitting the wooden floor again. Then he looked around the corner, just in time to see Hunter enter one of the rooms on the port side. Eric slowly crept to it and looked through the key hole, but apparently Hunter had left the key inside. Nevertheless, there was still a small space on the bottom of the door, where it didn't quite met the floor. He went to his knees, took off his glasses and pressed his face to the floor, listening.<br>"…tells me I can't do a damn thing about it!", Hunter was ranting. "Just tell me, please - did you know he was going to do something like this?"  
>"He's not telling me his business secrets, you know." Eric's eyes went wide as he realized he found his wife. So… the message she had sent before… was it addressed to Hunter? They were working together? What were they doing?<br>"Argh! I just… Hell, I could use a little _warning_! Why would he do this, anyway?"  
>"He complained that Elsa and her… gift is problematic to him. Perhaps he wants to use Anna as a hostage."<br>'He' must be Drachner, Eric thought. Kidnapping Arendelle heiress… He'd actually do this… Well, I guess that's something prince Kristoff would like to know about, Eric thought and listened on.  
>"Oh, great. I'd just like to know where is she, so that I won't have any bad surprises."<br>"I can write to him, but it could take some time before he answers, _if_ he answers. Still, for all we know, she could be in Tampera Capitaleh and I don't see how it influences our plans."  
>Our plans… Eric gritted his teeth and listened.<br>"Depends whether merchies will accuse us of kidnapping or not."  
>"That would only add fuel to the war, wouldn't it?"<br>They… they actually want the war to continue? Are they crazy?  
>"Perhaps. Or it would end with Weselton bay and us frozen to death."<br>I didn't expect Hunter of all people to show some reason, Eric thought.  
>"Don't worry. I have my ideas and if all goes right…"<br>"Because it all goes right so often!"  
>"Don't interrupt me. Besides, what went wrong so far?"<br>"This stupid kidnapping."  
>"We don't know if it's stupid yet. You know him. He has his own plans."<br>"Yes, and that's what worries me. We can't control him."  
>"Of course we can't, he's smuggler king. He serves money, not governments."<br>"Can we pay him, then?"  
>Silence fell. Eric blinked, thinking. What was Margaret planning? How could she stop furious Elsa from ending the war - and, along with it, Weselton? And what was Drachner's scheme? Too many problems, way too many… Margaret spoke, cautiously.<br>"If everything goes right… then yes, soon we can make him work for us."  
>"That would be nice, although I can already imagine the prices…"<br>Margaret chuckled. What was she thinking about?! At this moment, Eric would give everything for a chance to see Margaret's mind and thoughts. Why couldn't it be like in those books where villains start to gloat whenever the hero's nearby?  
>Did I just think about Margaret as a villain?, he asked himself.<br>Yes, I did. Yes, she is. She wants to prolong the war and profit from it, so for now… yes, she's a villain.  
>This should break my heart, he realized and it worried him, because his heart seemed perfectly fine.<br>Margaret and Hunter, oblivious to his thoughts, kept on talking. He blinked and returned to listening.  
>"…a few days. They'll probably send the message to our diplomats here and then you can step into action… and all will be lovely."<br>"'Lovely'? Most definitely…" The way Hunter spoke those three words made Eric very uneasy. They weren't scary, or threatening… He gritted his teeth again, knowing this tone. The prince himself used in, in first years of his marriage, usually at night…  
>"Well, you're getting unfocused." And he heard Margaret speaking like this before. But so far, only to him. Only to him…<br>"My lady, I can't spend too much time with you and stay focused… And night's still young …"  
>She chuckled again.<br>The next sounds made him back off from the door in mixture of fury and disgust with his wife… His scheming, cheating wife… He clenched his fists, staring at the door and shaking with rage… and somehow not finding enough resolve to enter this room and end this. To push the knife between that bastard Hunter's shoulders… Or better yet, strangle him. That would be much more satisfying, and he wouldn't have to look for a knife… Eric pressed his fists to his temples, trying to make himself stand up, enter there and punch the bastard until he'd whimper for mercy…  
>And yet there was a treacherous whisper in the back of his head. You can't fight at all… He'd destroy you in seconds… Besides, the door is most likely locked… And what would you do with Margaret?<br>Finally he couldn't stand it. He stood up and left quickly, feeling like a coward.  
>He didn't know where to go. Not to his room, this room filled with Margaret's things, clothes, little gifts she masked her cheating with… How long had it been going on? Months? Years? Ever since they were engaged? No, at least not so long, Hunter hadn't been anybody back then… Eric turned sharply away from his room. Where could he go? Empty salons? His father? No, what would he say? He couldn't admit that his wife was cheating on him. That would be… embarrassing. Worse than embarrassing. So where? Kitchen? No, what would he do? It was empty now. Stables? Where those creatures were?<br>I still have to tell Kai and Kristoff about princess Anna's kidnapping and that Margaret… he breathed heavily until he calmed down… is planning something. Right. Let's go there.

"So… princess Margaret has some plan to stop Her Majesty from… retaliating on Weselton for princess Anna's kidnapping… or death?", Kai asked slowly, looking across the table at prince Eric. They were sitting in Arendellans' room. Weselton's heir apparent looked terrible and he was finishing the bottle Kai put on the table already, which didn't bide well for the future. There was obviously more than he was telling, but Kai decided not to push it.  
>"Yes, it seems so. I'm afraid I don't have many ideas about what it could be." Eric said, pouring what was left in the bottle into the glass. He looked at the golden liquid and then up at Kai again. "Sorry."<br>"No offense taken." Kai glanced and Kristoff, standing behind the armchair Eric was sitting on. Mountaineer nodded, so Kai continued. "As it happens, we've… let's say we've found out that princess Anna was kidnapped by this Drachner and that she's on her way to Koenigsberg."  
>"If nothing happened to the ship on the way…", Kristoff murmured, worried.<br>"Let's hope nothing did.", Eric answered, smiling reassuringly a bit. "But why Koenigsberg? This Drachner… Felix Drachner… he lives in Isenberg, that's in Confederacy."  
>"I've got no idea", Kai admitted, "and obviously neither Hunter nor your wife knows either."<br>He rubbed his temples and decided he could drink a bit as well. He pulled out another bottle from king Charles' supplies and poured himself and Eric. Kristoff just shook his head.  
>"Well, we know Anna isn't here, and Kai wrote as much in his message to Elsa…", he started.<br>"But Margaret doesn't know about it.", Kai noted. "So… she's planning something."  
>Kristoff raised one eyebrow.<br>"No offense, but… this isn't really hard to guess."  
>"So enlighten us!" Eric snapped. He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Too much… things…. Soooo, what are you thinking about?"<br>Kristoff shrugged uneasily.  
>"Well, the best way would be to… you know. Disable her. Permanently."<br>Kai blinked, processing what the mountaineer said.  
>"You mean… regicide."<br>"Yeah… been a while since someone tried that on Elsa."  
>Kai gasped, leaning back and thinking. He didn't like where his thoughts were going.<br>"Regicide… yes, if they could pull it off… You know, Her Majesty isn't the most popular ruler by a long shot, but it would… And if it turned out Weseltonians did this… Holy hell."  
>Eric downed another glass without a word.<p>

_Arendelle  
><em> After the Great Freeze had turned Queen Elsa's ice powers into something of a public thing, the ever-undermanned Arendelle castle started to hire more workers, as they didn't have to keep anything secret anymore. Baron Madsen's people were scanning every new person, but there was a limit to capabilities of even the best espionage system. Three people managed to slip through the sieve undetected, two man and one woman. One of them became palace guardsman and was spending a lot of time by the main gate. Another became a cook, although it would still be a long time before he could cook for the queen. The last of them was a cleaner, tasked with washing pillows, quilts and curtains. To the outside world, it looked as if the trio met each other in the castle and somehow became acquaintances. However, they knew each other before, back in Confederacy, where they've been hired by somebody else.  
>All three of them had already finished their day's jobs and decided, as they told their co-workers, to relax in one of portside cafes. Having found a table in the corner, the three of them ordered hot chocolate - increasingly popular drink here in Arendelle, for some reason - and sat down. One of the men, the cook, had his hand around woman's waist and the cleaner was sitting on his lap. Guardsman didn't question, although he was generally adverse to getting personal with one's professional colleagues. Feelings were rather problematic if one had to work against one-time lover in the future.<br>"So…", he started after the waitress put three cups on the table and left. He pointed at the cook. "I'm still waiting for you to give me opportunity to get close."  
>"Don't worry.", the cook answered him. "I already have a poison in place, I just have to work out how to give it only to the man you're supposed to replace. Otherwise it could rise suspicions."<br>"Well, you did prove to be somewhat sloppy cook sometimes.", the woman noted, putting her cheek on cook's head. "It'd be believable that you've managed to give food poisoning to an entire group."  
>"That would end up with me getting kicked out.", he noted.<br>"You don't have to worry about that.", the guardsman said. "Your only concern is making way for me. After they kick you out, run for the hills so that they won't catch you."  
>"I know… Still, that leaves us with one option less if you fail."<br>Guardsman nodded. He was way too seasoned killer to get angry at suggestions that he might not succeed in his job. He pointed at the woman.  
>"If I won't make it, your lovebird can finish the job."<br>The woman smiled, taking a sip of the chocolate. The cook nodded.  
>"Well, on the bright side, with so many people sick, you should be the obvious choice as a replacement in her personal watch. I'll try it tomorrow evening, so get yourself ready."<br>The guardsman nodded.  
>The trio finished their drinks and the guardsman left the bar, leaving his two colleagues to their own devices. He reached his house - a rent place, on the outskirts of the city, whose landlady didn't ask too many questions - and walked up to his place. He looked around and ducked under his bed to bring out a bag that could get him arrested, was it found. If he was indeed to become one of queen's personal guardsmen, he'd live in the castle, so he had to make sure he had his tools with him.<br>He spread is collection on the bed and begun to choose which of the countless knives, darts, blades and needles he'd take with him.


End file.
